


League of Extraordinary Gentlemecha

by TurboFerret



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Canonical Character Death, Dismemberment, Gladiators, Inquisition, Mild Gore, Monsters, Multi, Mutilation, Outliers - Freeform, Persecution, Pre-Earth Transformers, Pre-War, Religious Fanaticism, Societal inequality, Steampunk, Suspense, Teacher-Student Relationship, burial rites, carbon, caste system, coal vs energon, hidden agendas, mentions of limb amputation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:23:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8137138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurboFerret/pseuds/TurboFerret
Summary: While Cybertron suffocates in its own coal exhaust the onlookers of arena cheer as the Colossus of Kaon finally defeats the silent Nautilus. Despite inquisition and fear, new era draws upon the steam-driven Cybertron. Steampunk Transformers.Do not hate me for not believing in energon, it has not yet been invented.*Updated name, thought it suited better.





	1. Nickelillies

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is a stellar divergence form all Transformer canons but well. Be gentle

The arena was littered with chipped bits of decorative brass piping, pieces of carbon and wet patches of petrol. Above them the crowd roared, and even higher up, above the crowd a thick charcoal smog lingered like a widow's pelerine.  
The voice of the referee boomed in jovial tone -" Annd the Colossus of Kaon triumphs over the silent Nautilus! What a battle!"  
The words remained unheard by either gladiator now in the ring.  
-"Soundwave, Soundwave!" The giant locomotive-former whispered as loudly as he could trying to get a reaction from his fellow mech. Stage names forgotten, the furnance in his chest burned angrily, he needed to posture for the crowd but he also needed to get Soundwave out as soon as possible. His damn blade had slipped and… now what?  
Silvery white blossoms of nickelillies were thrown on the floor of the arena by exuberant spectators. A gesture reserved for occasions when one of the two high-ranking opponents fell. Before they would have fueled his winner's high, but oh how he loathed them now.  
Soundwave tapped on his opponent's plating. A morse code he used to communicate and which the Colossus had learnt painstakingly.  
::Let me die.::  
-"No." The hulking locomotive responded simply and without flair, black smoke rising from his charred pipes being the only giveaway of his agitation. He hastily gestured the cleanup crew to prioritize bringing Soundwave away from the arena, promising to pay them generously if they got a medic and Soundwave was alive. There was nothing like a couple of rhodium coins to motivate the crew. He just hoped they would manage.

He could not spare another glance to his fallen comrade, not yet. He was bound to engage in arena courtesy. Each gladiator had their own victory move or prestige, as they called it. In case of Colossus it was releasing the bellowing sound of pressurized steam escaping through his blastpipe. The crowd cheered once more as he lifted one of the nickelillies to his face plate, as if in pensive reverie and then throwing it back to public. The wave of bloodthirsty adoration hit him and he turned his back to the crowd and walked out of the ring.

Once he heard the arena gates close behind him he broke out into a run. Darting towards the makeshift medical bay where Soundwave currently lay, steam escaping from the torn gash in his chest at an alarming rate. A small red ground-vehicle bustled around him, quickly applying copper stabilizing patches over the injured areas.  
-" Are you the doctor?" The Colossus asked narrowing his burning optics at the carmine red vehicle. It was one of the new kerosene-powered alt-modes. Too sleek and modern to fit in the sooty confines of the arena backstage. The bot turned to him, his face did not deceive his expectations - nacre inlay and circular incandescent filament optics - all indicators of wealth and upper standing, it disgusted him.  
-" Was it You who needed my help? I thought you were supposed to be the victor." The tiny grounder responded without lifting optics from his work. Meticulously he was patching up the severed pipes while still somehow avoiding the scalding blasts of the pressurized steam. The gladiator narrowed his eyes but let the mech work. It had been a stupid question but in gladiator pits one never could be too sure about who exactly was handling an injured and defenseless mech. Thankfully Soundwave was out cold for the procedure, probably having blacked out due to loss of pressure.

-"While you are at it how about you bring me some carbon and tell your little henchmen that I will need some coolant too." The locomotive tensed when the 'doctor' pried at Soundwave's spark chamber, it seemed to be stuck.  
-"Excuse me, are you deaf?" The little mech now stared at him, servos on hips, tips of his claws curled inwards to avoid staining his gleaming paint. -"Do you want him to live or not?"  
The giant brute, as Knock Out had named him in his mind seemed to go into some sort of stupor, probably never seen a spark chamber before, some gladiator he was. Knock Out had spoken deliberately slower so that the overgrown boiler would understand him and this is what he got in exchange.  
-"Well? I do not have all day you know." Knock Out finished by applying the last patch, there, now only tiny streams of steam simmered through the gaps here and there. Then the medic nonchalantly opened Soundwave's chestplates to examine his spark. He cursed under his breath after being blinded by the glow. He rummaged through his subspace until he came up with a pair of dark goggles to dim the excessive corona of the spark. Luckily for the gladiator named Nautilus there were no irregularities.  
-"Ok, looks like he is dying at a slower rate now. Where is that coolant and carbon?" The gladiator brought him what he had asked for and the medic was silent again, refueling the coolant tank carefully and adding just a tiny amount of carbon to rise pressure gently. Too much at once and the patches would go flying off.  
-"How much?" The carmine grounder blinked at the imposing figure, his pretty optics shuttering in confusion. -"For your services." The Colossus added.  
The grounder blinked again, then laughed. The locomotive ground his sharp dentae together, hydraulics screeching while he tried hard to refrain from punching that overgrown scraplet. The medic noticed Colossus' internal turmoil and composed himself. -"Ah, sorry, my bad." The grounder suppressed a hiccup of giggle and cleared his throat.  
-"I am a medic in training. I can patch him up so that he is stable but this pipe here..." He motioned to the damaged connection, -"Needs to be completely replaced. I can't do it alone and my mentor is much better at it but for that we will need to transport your friend to his home. So we will only know the full price once the repairs are completed but trust me, my mentor is your best option now."

As far as Ratchet was concerned he lived in a madhouse. Not literally but he was renting out his home to a variety of nutjobs who did not care for vats of strange liquids bubbling right next to their living quarters and an occasional offlined mech being carried in or out by the undertakers. The involvement of his tenants in his shady activities was purely incidental, yeah, it was not like they have grown so close that one could consider them a team. No, not at all.

He told himself that his interest in the research of their bodies was purely scientific and totally legal and not at all at odds with the inquisition, nope. In the end it was going to benefit the entire society. Hopefully, if he was not executed as a heretic before then.

It was with these thoughts when he heard insistent knocking on the door of his lab, conveniently located at the back entrance to his house - not to aggravate the neighbors. He jumped, admittedly that last thought about inquisition set him on edge. Tarn and his ragtag gang of enforcers was not a source of happy thoughts and now Somebody had the audacity to disturb him. He waited for the knocking to go away, it didn't. A wave of panic rolled over him. What if they had been found out, what if it was Tarn?

-"Raaatcheet! I know you are in there!" Came the singsong voice of his apprentice. The older medic pursed his lips in a pained expression, knowing the red grounder he would not shut up until the rest of the tenants were up.  
-"Your lights are on, I can see your outline!" Ratchet growled and opened the door. Before him stood his annoying apprentice/ social butterfly and two gladiators, one of whom was heavily injured.  
-"Knock Out, how many times do I have to tell you not to bring work home?"  
-"Aw don't be like that" Knock Out offered him the brightest of his smiles.  
Ratchet slammed the door in his face.  
-"They are not my clients, you rust bucket! They are patients!" He hammered on the closed door.


	2. Hired Sword

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what I am doing

When Soundwave regained his bearings he assumed he probably was in the fabled Unicron's smelting pool where restless sparks were tortured for eons. This particular pit was surprisingly yellow, so bright it hurt his optics. He reset them and noted that his sight was blurry and no mount of shuttering wound help, resigned, he turned his head to the other side, away from the processor-piercing glare. The yellow followed him.  
-” _Are you really Nautilus? Can I have your autograph?_ ”  
Was this his punishment? Did mechs in smelting pit speak in binary? He tried lifting his servo to his chest which was starting to thrum with pain of increasing intensity but his arm was gently yet firmly pressed down to his side by the same yellow, Primus would it ever leave?  
-” _Stay like this, you had a bad accident._ ”  
Someone entered the room, sound of a closing door, footsteps. A conversation he did not care to focus on unfolded, yellow left now replaced by blue.  
-” Can you hear me?”  
Soundwave tapped a set of rhythmic knocks.::Please leave me be.::  
\- ” I will take it was a ‘Yes’. The blue now settled closer. ”You are in a medical ward. Your friend brought you in.” He heard a rustle and tried shifting again. -”Relax, I will reapply the coat of sealant on your seams.” Judging by the voice it was a smallish bot, possibly of a femme build.  
More gentle pats along his scorching wound and smell of clean bandages; his chest suddenly felt exposed, the blistering pain replaced gradually by numbing coolness. He noticed that the chestplate covering his spark was missing but it did not bother him at the moment. The sensation of coolness passed replaced by a comfortable feeling of dry bandages, the old ones must have been sodden. -”I will fetch your friend now, he had been waiting for you to wake up.”  
The nurse, he gathered, left and then he heard more voices. Among them - Megatron’s distinct rasp.  
-” How is he?”  
-”He is still weak from operation, you should not stay too long.” he overheard and soon after a gunmetal-colored cloud floated into sight. He tapped on the side of the berth. The cloud paused, then growled, the corner of Soundwave’s mouth twitched upwards, he enjoyed annoying Megatron if only because he could get away with it.  
-”You know it made no sense.”  
Tap, tap, tap. Megatron sighed and passed a servo over his face, Soundwave was in one of his moods; he had to keep his temper.  
-”How are you?”  
Silence, one of Soundwave’s digits twitched and he responded, this time with a meaningful tap ::Good, considering.::  
-”I should have been more careful.”  
::Scrap happens::  
-”Did you really want me to extinguish you?”  
That was Megatron for you, always to the point, clearly bothered by Soundwave’s wish. The issue was that the silent mech had not expected to be around and have to explain it to him. How could he even begin explaining what he felt? Soundwave paused, his digit wavered. Megatron frowned, the silent mech always hesitated when he was about to say something that would upset the fellow gladiator.  
-”Soundwave...” Megatron pronounced his name with a sigh, with dejection. Soundwave felt more than saw the locomotive shift slightly, in instances like these it looked as if his behemoth frame crumpled inwards slightly. That however soon blossomed into rage. -”You Can’t do this to me! How dare you use my sword to end y…” he did not get to finish because a hard object made a clanging impact with his helmet. It barely hurt a jot but it did draw the locomotive’s attention.  
Being a few heads shorter than his imposing guest Ratchet stood next to him unimpressed, a large wrench in one arm and an empty beaker in another. Why he needed both these objects at the same time remained a mystery. -”This is not a ring, you either behave or get out.”  
Megatron wanted to remark that it was _Exactly_ how rings worked but kept this to himself. Instead he drew himself to his full height, the motion rendered somewhat less imposing by one of his shoulder spikes impacting with a low-hung sconce. It clattered losing a good portion of its porcelain shade.The larger mech took this in stride and instead bowed his helm.  
-”I must thank you for saving my friend.”  
Ratchet almost smirked, almost. -” We do not get gladiators often. You were lucky Knock Out was there.”  
-” Also,” Ratchet pointed at the pile of porcelain shards now laying on the floor, -”I’m afraid you will have to replace that.”  
-” I hope this will suffice.” Megatron offered a large object he had pulled out of his subspace. He had been waiting for the subject of payment to arise. In his case not only for treatment but for keeping silent about his part in saving Soundwave. Ratchet’s eyes widened. It was a gladiatorial trophy, a large ornate trident made of pure ruthenium.  
-”T-This is far too much.” Ratchet stuttered. Monetary donations were by far his preferred currency. Not only would this be difficult to cash it in, it would be extremely suspicious. How could a lowly medic like himself come into possession of such an exclusive item? Furthermore as most trophies went, they were not owned by the gladiator who won them. They were handed down to the winning mech of each match. Chances were this was also one such trophy. It was highly likely to draw undesired attention.  
-”I was awarded it after my match with S... Nautilus, I only find it fitting to use it.”  
-”I am afraid I can’t accept it.” Ratchet’s mouth drew in a taut line, servos up defensively.  
-”Please?” Megatron did not use this phrase often but why not try? Surely smiling should help too. Sadly it seemed to have an adverse reaction on the medic.  
-”I know you mean well but this is frozen money. I can’t trade it in without suspicion and I can’t use it otherwise. Even though it is valuable it is also pretty much worthless. If I am lucky I will be accused of theft.”  
Megatron understood, but that did not mean he had to like it. -” Well then, dear medic, I am afraid I don’t have much else to offer you.”  
Ratchet tapped his chin. He had one idea, he could use some muscle around. Orion was diligent and hardworking but they needed some raw mechpower with no qualms for their less savory tasks and this might just be it.

-”I have a counteroffer to you.” He finally spoke. Colossus was at full attention. -”There is a couple of things I need done. At, at! Not what you think.” He waved servos before him when he saw a knowing glint in the gladiator's eye. While not fighting in the arena the powerful mechs were oftentimes employed as mercenaries...or expensive pleasure bots. Either way Megatron had previously received offers on both accounts so the medic's sudden change of mind did not surprise him in the slightest. What promised to be interesting was how the medic planned to go about the 'payment'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet strikes me as a character somewhere between the Godfather and Gandalf.


	3. Temper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your support and love, dear readers. Here is yet another chapter for you to enjoy.

Orion was...interesting, Megatron finally concluded as he was invited to take a seat in the tiny cramped office. The only information Ratchet had given him about their meeting that day was the address of the central archive and who to ask for at the desk.

He noted that the halls of the Archive were mostly clean of carbon soot, probably the place employed kerosene, fuel oil or other alternative fuel models. The large locomotive was clearly out of place there. He was amused by the curious looks the patrons of the archive cast him, some made wry expressions at the exhaust he left in his wake but nobody dared approaching or reprimanding him.

Megatron stopped by the currently unmanned front desk, observing how the archive workers slipped between the tall shelves in the far end of the room separated from the visitor area by an elaborate metal lattice. One of the braver attendants eyed him warily a couple of times. Once he realized the larger mech was not going to disappear on his own the archivist approached him.

-”Do you have an appointment?”

-” Um. Yes? I have a meeting with Orion.” Ratchet had not told him about needing appointments but he assumed that the doctor had made one for him. The clerk looked at him insistently awaiting more information but Megatron was not certain what else to add.

-” Your name?” The clerk finally lost his patience.

-” C... Megatron ”

-” I am afraid we do not have appointments on the name of C-Megatron today.”

-" Could you try just Megatron? Without 'C'?" Nothing came up again.

-" Are you _Sure_ you have an appointment today?" 

Megatron raked his mind. Right, he had not given Ratchet his real name.

-” Could you try Colossus?” A couple of muffled gasps came from the visitor area behind him but whoever it was they decided not to further announce themselves.

The clerk vented and shifted a couple of data charts however he did not utter anything that could be interpreted as him not having found the name. Instead he scribbled something on a small card and extended it to him. -”This is a perfocard that gives you access to the Arcive offices. You check it when you enter that door and bring it back to me when you are done.”

Megatron took the card and turned to walk towards the door the clerk had pointed out. However the archive worker had a change of heart at the last moment. -” Wait, just...wait here for a moment please! Orion will be with you shortly.” 

Alright then...Megatron went to stand in the waiting hall, glancing to the sides and noting that most of the mechs in the waiting area barely reached his elbow. The ceiling was also rather low, on a positive note he could observe the sparkly chandelier in high detail.

The waiting took longer than he had anticipated. He looked at the ceiling, paced, checked the wall clock twice and then (after noticing that the clerk at the front desk was starting to become increasingly more agitated) he ever so carefully resigned himself to the sitting area in the vicinity of the door behind which, according to the archivist, resided this mysterious Orion. Megatron sighed and closed his optics.

-” Um, Excuse me?” That made Megatron jolt. The chair under him creaked in protest. He must have fallen asleep. He looked up to see a blue and red mech looking at him attentively, actually looking apologetic.

-” I am sorry for startling you. It took me longer than I had anticipated.”

\- “Who are you?” Megatron was standing up already, feeling somewhat relieved that this particular mech actually was about his size. A tugboat, judging by the twin propellers lodged on his back.

-” Ah yes, I am Orion, forgive me for not introducing myself sooner. Colossus I presume?”

-” You... can call me Megatron.”

The archivist smiled and gestured to follow him. -” Oh. Remember to check in your…”

-” Done.” Megatron waved the card with two distinct holes in it,.

-” Good, good. Now on the matter of your ancestry, I have gathered and couple of records in my office. Please come this way.”

Megatron raised an optic ridge at this fabricated piece of information but took it in stride. That was how he ended up in the unremarkable room in the middle of the long hallway. Apparently the door in the grand visitor area that Megatron had thought lead to Orion was an opening to a corridor where an army of archivists like Orion performed their daily tasks in their closet-like offices.

Megatron glanced around before stepping in properly. Stacks of record plates lined the walls. Some were so tall that even put on the floor they reached the edge of the office table. He had expected more dust but it seemed that at least this Orion had under control.

-”I did not imagine the archives to be so…”

-”Cluttered?” Orion quipped with a hint of mirth in his voice. “Yes, we are in the middle of migrating the older files to the bottom levels. It is not like this normally.” He gestured to his guest to sit.

-”Soo…” Megatron started, wanting to get this over with before his free day was completely finished. Orion laced his fingers together, taking a seat opposite his visitor. Ratchet had told him the exact description of the mech just in case but he had not mentioned his...character. Orion could not wait to test it out, his optics glinted mischievously.

-"How can I help you?"

-"I believe it should be me asking you how I could be of service." Megatron bounced the question back with ease.

Orion smiled -”Very well, tell me, Megatron, how much do you know about archeology?”

From what he understood it was not that different from mining, though it was far more controlled on behalf of church and involved fewer explosions. Though he did not have to disclose his intimate knowledge of the dig sites. -”It revolves mainly around digging in dirt.” He offered deadpan.

-”That is the gist of it.” Orion smiled. -”How good are you with a shovel?”

Megatron boomed with laughter. -”It is not standard equipment for gladiators but if you wish me to dig trenches for you it can be arranged.”

Orion cocked his head to the side, still smiling, if anything he needed a reaction to be certain that the mech before him was who he claimed to be. -” Not a fan? How about a pickaxe?”

-” Unlikely." Megatron responded evenly although this time the response was more stiff. The truth was he was becoming uncomfortable about the turn of the conversation.

-" Then a tunnel drill maybe?" Orion plowed ahead with a lighthearted smile on his face, that must have done it.

-" How do you know about this?” Megatron asked calmly, schooling his face into semblance of placid indifference, covering the edge in his voice.

-” A wild guess? Gladiators are not known to come from privileged castes.” Orion tried being flippant despite becoming slightly agitated himself. Megatron was larger and stronger than him, if he decided to start using force there was little Orion could do before it was too late.

-” There are many unprivileged castes out there, Orion, I do not believe in dumb luck or wild guesses coming from an archive worker.”

Orion's optics lit up. -"Was it not dumb luck that gave you an opportunity to be where you are now?”

-” You have no right nor capacity to be the judge of that.” Megatron's blazing red optics skewered the archivist, the smoke and steam from his exhaust filling the tiny room.  He remembered the explosions in tunnels, the cave-ins, the shrieks of his crewmates as they were buried alive. He was the only survivor of his team, rather, the only body unaccounted for. For all purposes it had been dumb luck and Orion _Knew_ and enjoyed it.

He wished he could throttle the mech there and then but it would have caused more trouble than it was worth. -”I congratulate you on your research.” Megatron stated with an air of finality. -"I hope I was an entertaining specimen, now if you excuse me, I have the rest of my free day to enjoy."  The only thing he could do was to walk out on Orion and that he did, without another word.

The archivist caught up with the belligerent gladiator in the hallway, falling in stride beside him. Unfortunately for him Megatron ignored his attempts at diplomacy. He would find a way to pay Ratchet even if he had to get inventive, he did not have to put up with this… whatever it was. He reached for the door through which he had entered.

-“Before you leave please hear me out.” Megatron stopped turning to face the other mech, if looks had power to turn things to ice his frosty gaze could have covered the entire hallway in bitter permafrost. He bent slightly to look Orion in the eye.

-” Answer me this, did he send me in as a practice subject for you to perpetuate your superiority?” Megatron clearly referred to Ratchet, internally Orion was grateful that he had refrained from casual name dropping in the middle of the busy hallway. All the more reason to make peace with him.

-” I, ah, I must apologize for my behaviour earlier but it was for a reason. If you are willing to hear me out I would be happy to explain.” That was vague enough not to set off suspicions. Every once in a while someone was unhappy with what archives revealed about them.

Megatron vented, the fiery roar in his combustion tank relented to a milder simmer. Orion was of a higher caste, he did not have to apologize and he did not need to sound sincere. Emboldened by the fact that the gladiator had not dismissed him yet Orion continued. -”My work is finishing soon. Would you mind walking with me for a bit?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orion, you little prick.  
> Desk clerks is what finally broke Megatron.


	4. Ankmor park

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yeah, perhaps it is a bit late but I should have added warnings about persecution of heresy and warped religion-like setting. I know that it sounds a bit odd for a fanfick about giant sentient robots but hey, consider being warned.  
> I like to imagine that Cybertron has flora and fauna because of course it does.

They were strolling through the Ankmor park - one of the few areas where members of all castes could enter freely. One of the noblemechs had left the park to the city after his death under condition that everyone was allowed to frequent it. Thought the name 'park' was deceiving, it was more of a botanical garden than a park. Various examples of metalloid flora grew there, each labelled in accordance to their taxonomic name and place of origin. The specimens varied from fairly common nickelillies to such rarities as a giant crystalline cypress which dwarfed even Megatron.  
-”I was serious about archaeology. You see, it is a risky business even for a beginner such as myself.” Away from work Orion looked much less guarded and if anything, more genuine.

They stopped by a pond which housed several types of floating crystals, suspended in carbon monoxide.  
-”I hardly have the authority to protect you from persecution.” Megatron was not going to let go of Orion’s little prank earlier that day any time soon. Even though he understood that the archivist had done so to protect himself and the rest of mechs involved in his little archaeology escapades. If Megatron’s identity and past relations to church were anything to go by. The mental workings behind this 'proof' were a bit unclear to him.  
-”That may be true but you are strong enough to keep away those with a more hands-on approach.”  
Orion chose to move from their spot at the pond. Megatron quirked an optic ridge and followed suit. Probably the archivist wanted to shift around to avoid being overheard or followed. -”You wish to take me out to conduct field work with you?”  
-”Or as it stands, watch my back.” Orion added his eyes flaring blue as they passed under a shade of a weeping weld-tree. Megatron shuttered his optics excusing this as tricks of light, no bot had blue eyes.  
-”I am not sure how familiar you are with gladiatorial code, but by no means are we free mechs.”  
-”Care to enlighten me?”  
It had been worse than Orion expected - Megatron was technically a glorified slave, an asset. Eventually he could buy himself freedom but he would still have to live long enough to earn it.  
-”I think I must apologize for more than I initially thought, Megatron. I truly had no understanding of your situation.” No wonder the gladiator had become so hostile during their previous conversation.  
Megatron shrugged -”Making amends will not change my predicament.”  
-” Maybe, but if more mechs knew, I think you would find more support.” Orion caught a glimpse of something in the optics of the gladiator. He probably had already tried; the archivist vented in frustration felt on behalf of his companion and cleared his throat.  
-” I must apologize for making it sound like I am about to do a business transaction but do you think I could, uh, rent your services for couple of days at a time?”  
Megatron laughed - it was not up to him to decide, due to his popularity his owner usually demanded a steep price of whoever wanted to encounter the gladiator outside the arena. Judging by Orion’s place of employment, chances were - he would not be able to afford it.

Ratchet and Orion were discussing the matter of Megatron’s assistance privately in the early hours of the morning following their meeting. The archivist had caught up with the medic after making checkups on his sole resident patient. The practice was about to open soon for outpatients and Orion could see how anxious Ratchet wads to get on with his day.  
\- “ If he was faking, he definitely did a good job of that.”  
Before Ratchet managed responding he was interrupted by his apprentice who, judging by his state, had just come out from recharge. A thermal sheet was snugly wrapped around him to ward off the chill of the morning.  
-”How is the patient doing and also, who was the wise guy who thought this was a good idea?” Knock Out hovered in the doorway, waspy before his morning refuel. The target of his displeasure this time was a large tarp-covered crate that sat at the entrance to the medical ward. A meek chirp sounded from under it. If anything, that caught Soundwave’s attention immediately. He strained to move off his berth but the world before him spun in a dizzying array of blazing lights and dark dots. It was like watching fireworks in his own head.  
-” Stay down, or I will tie you to the berth.” Ratchet gruffed, he had had his fair share of sneaky patients but Soundwave was almost desperately so, probably the inhabitant of the crate was the reason. They heard another chirp, this time more insistent as Knock Out had lifted the edge of the tarp to look inside.  
-” Pretty bird. Let me guess - Nautilus’s shadow?”  
Lazerbeak puffed out her metallic quills, they could hear them rattle together as she preened under attention.  
-”Megatron passed by this morning and insisted that I bring her here.”  
-"Her?" The red trainee medic looked from Soundwave to his avian companion, they were an odd pair. Nautilus was a submarine, his sleek yet angular shapes honed to reduce drag when submerged whilst his pet was a flyer. Ratchet was about to say something but Knock Out cleared his throat daintily to draw everyone’s attention.  
-” Seeing as there are no other patients currently in the ward and if our patient behaves, perhaps we can allow him to keep company?”  
-” That is not your decision to make, colleague.” Ratchet replied matter of factly. He would need to seek head nurse’s approval and she was a strict little creature.  
-” Surely it is only a suggestion, I am aware of the sanitary concerns, but it might help with recovery better than being tied to bed?” The red mech smirked. -” In fact, I was hoping for your support in the matter.”  
-” Only if you personally give that bird a decontamination bath.” Sounded a stern little voice behind them. They turned to look at the petite blue-framed bot that looked far too slight to even exist.  
-” Ah, head nurse. Glad to see you here.”  
-” You better get ready for your morning sermon, Scarlet.” She turned her attention to the remaining bots in the room. -” What are you two even doing here? The patient needs rest. You can discuss matters elsewhere.”  
Ratchet waved his goodbyes and headed towards his office, Knock Out pulled Orion to the side and Arcee set to changing Soundwave´s bandages.

Orion had initially thought that Knock Out had pulled him to the side for care instructions but the red grounder was far more concerned with matters of privacy.  
-”I can’t believe you let him know where you live! That is suicidal!” The Knock Out whispered with a mix of worry and anger. He left the fact that it was also His home, unsaid.  
-”No, we met at an appointed spot not far from the gladiatorial quarters, you see, he is not a free mech.”  
Knock Out snorted at that. -”Don’t tell me this is news for you.”  
-”I did not know the full extent of it, that varies from owner to owner.” Orion stated defensively.  
-”Look, I know you feel strongly for the oppressed, Orion, but you trust too easily. Let Bumblebee do more research before laying out your cards.” With that the red grounder picked up the crate and turned to march to his office.  
-”Ah, wait, Knock Out, the care instructions?”  
The carmine grounder turned to look over his shoulder smirking. -” Let me guess, solvent that is not too harsh, temperature slightly higher than for us large mechs and what else?”  
-” A brush.” Orion finished providing the instrument, smiling. -”Take good care of her.”  
-”Of course, she’s got me as a caretaker.” Knock Out lifted the crate to his optic level so that he could look at Laserbeak directly. -”You lucky bird you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody listens to poor Soundwave.


	5. Lockpick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Real life has been unpleasantly real lately. But hey, At least I have this little steampunk world do sink into. YAAY! ;P  
> Also, I am sloppy so I am going back and forth updating the fick so, if you happen to read over it again do not be surprised that there are some new bits in places.  
> Again - warning about distorted faith elements.

Laserbeak inspected her new surroundings. Seeing Soundwave functional, if only for a moment, was more than enough to help her keep her temper at bay, for now. As far as she was concerned they would be reunited sooner rather than later.

  
That fateful evening when Soundwave and Megatron fought in the arena had caused her plenty of distress. She had found out about Soundwave’s situation in the early hours of the morning. Laserbeak had perked, expectant, thinking that maybe Megatron and Soundwave had stayed out late to celebrate the match but she had been disappointed when only Megatron entered their humble quarters.  
He had sunk on one knee before her, solemn and serious. -”Forgive me…”  
_Excuse me?!_ Her plating and quills pressed to her body so tightly she looked like a cast-iron figurine rather than a mech. Expectant and testy, she clacked her beak. What Megatron was to say next could cost him an optic. To his credit his combustion tank did give an uncomfortable crackle. He knew what she wanted to know, anyone in her position would have had the same question.  
-”He is alive but hurt.”  
_Do continue._ She released a low chirr, puffed out her quills and clacked her beak again, looking no less hostile. Megatron sighed, he was the one responsible for her predicament after all.  
-”I made sure he is in good hands now.”  
Well, that was a bit better but something remained unsaid. She cocked her head and scrutinized him more until he understood she wanted more details.  
-”His owner considers him dead.”  
_Huh?_ Laserbeak flapped her wings and smoothed her plating again. It meant that Soundwave had been hurt bad enough for his owner to consider discarding him. It was bad, but then again, this Was a silver lining of sorts. Death meant freedom, one which Soundwave was alive to enjoy.  
-”I will bring you to him as soon as my schedule allows.” Laserbeak hopped off her roost and onto Megatron´s shoulder, from there she hopped onto the roof of her gilded cage.  _I am ready, when do we go_?

 

Now she assessed the room with great interest while Knock Out went about his morning routine. He had deposited her crate on one of the low stools of his chamber. His quarters housed an odd collection of items. If she had to describe it, it would be a mishmash of shiny instruments, glittering jars and books. Some were in bookshelves, some laid under his berth, one particularly thick tome was used as a substitute for one of the berth legs which had gone missing, a couple were laid open on the covers. It looked like he had been searching for something earlier that morning.  
The faint clink of glass on metal drew her attention to the vanity. That was a sight of its own, delicate vials and jars were set carefully on the small but elaborate table. Knock Out was perched in front of the vanity with one optic widely open, and with one of his fingers touching the glowing iris. She shuddered, no, wait, he was adjusting something in it. In morbid fascination she craned her neck to see better. It looked like he was placing black discs over his optics. Mismatched optics, she had noticed - one blue, the other yellow, odd. Optics like this usually meant that one of them had been replaced and there had been no matching pair around. Fair enough, she could see some faint lines of scarring around his left optic now that she looked closer.  
Knock Out then uncapped another jar with silvery white paste, probably titanium dioxide, and set to covering those up.  
By the end of his routine Knock Out’s face was flawless and the effect from the dark discs he had put in rendered both his optics a uniform glowing shade of red.  
-”Enjoy the show? Trippy, huh?” He winked at her, having noticed the stare.  
Laserbeak adjusted her quills and preened as if she had not been caught staring, he was not the only vain creature in the room.  
Next he picked up a little sachet Orion had left him and peered inside - blue crystals, he gulped. Of course, the flyer was too little to hold a combustion tank. That bag held her unwavering attention as he poured a handful of feed for her. If Laserbeak had paid him any attention she would have noticed him popping one of her crystals in his mouth.   
What drew his attention was the scratched surface around the cage latch. Sensing mischief, he added -”I have to leave for a bit, If I catch you rummaging through my things I will turn you into a feather duster.”  
Laserbeak gave him an even stare but once Knock Out had closed the door of his room she went straight for the latch of her cage.

 

-” Through the name of the almighty Primus. Who blessed our tanks with his immortal flame and filled our conduits with his holy vapor. May we begin the sermon!”  
The sermon attendants mumbled the customary response to this salutation. Knock Out stifled a yawn and let the remainder of the reading part wash over him. The opening was always the same. Some verses from the gilded book of Solus. The tale of the glorious combustion which apparently granted Cybertronians stewardship over the poor creatures which had been left without by design, conveniently portraying insecticons and other sentient forms of life, Laserbeak included, as lower entities not worthy of this blessing. This was the cornerstone of their faith.  
But Knock Out was not here for enlightenment or redemption for that matter. He knew the passage of the divine combustion so well he could quote it by heart. His profession sometimes required it, especially if the patients died under his care. Providing solace was more important than than arguing the validity of scriptures.  
He rested his chin in his palm and waited. He was here for the second part of sermon where the priests poured their ‘wisdom’ over the smoking masses below. This wisdom often consisted of thinly veiled opinions and prompts for societal behavior. Knowing what it was that the spiritual higher - ups wanted their devoted masses to do was useful in times when faith was enforced by brutal physical punishment.  
So he waited, hoping someone may get a rapture, those were entertaining to watch. Though usually stemming from a benign medical condition of carbon or oil residue getting released from the combustion gasket resulting in a sudden flux of steam in the system. The overwhelmed mech would fall over in convulsions whilst feeling invigorated at the same time. Involuntarily his thoughts drifted to that fateful conversation with Ratchet, it had set things in motion which were far beyond his comprehension back then.  
-”What if I told you that we did not need carbon to exist?”  
Knock Out had snorted then. -”Of course you do not, look at me, I run on kerosene.”  
-”What I meant was that you did not need combustion to survive.”  
This got the reaction he had anticipated -”W-what? But combustion is a basic element of life. There is no life without combustion.”  
-”Yes there is.”  
-”You are insane.”  
-”That may be so. But predacons, our predecessors, did not need a combustion tank.”  
Knock Out laughed. -”Are you serious? And here I thought I was working with a professional and not someone who dabbled in voodoo.”  
Ratchet clenched his fists and then slumped his shoulders. -”Pharma recommended you for your open-mindedness and acceptance of unorthodox ideas.”  
-”You will have to forgive my skepticism on this matter, esteemed colleague, but the fossil evidence currently at our disposal is incomplete to put it mildly and mostly falsified, to be exact. How can you be so bold as to make such an assumption, moreover to transfer it to the modern mechs?”  
-”I have my own sources, Knock Out.”  
The grounder narrowed his optics. -” I will need more proof on this than your word alone.”  
-” Come.”

 

Laserbeak had made short job of her cage latch and now roamed freely about Knock Out’s room. To her disappointment the window was locked and barred from the outside. _What was this? Some sort of prison?_ The door appeared locked too. She settled on the backrest of the chair in front of the vanity. It did not hurt to look good before she met Soundwave so she preened. Of course, not before examining the contents of the jars on the table.  
She gently uncapped one vial and it smelled nicely of polish so she dipped her beak into the oily substance and spread it over her quills.  
Curious as she was Laserbeak gave the white paste a pass and also ignored a couple of other harsher-smelling salves. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her quills shone as well as she could make them without Soundwave´s assistance. Feeling bolder she assessed the door lock again and after a few moments of probing and pecking the lock clicked.

 

Knock Out had almost fallen asleep when the ceremonial gong announced the time to distribute the consecrated carbon. The act was based on a tradition that the mechs attending the shrine had to come with tanks half-empty. Symbolically to cement the feeling that the church would always provide, practically - emptier tanks meant less soot to clean off the white walls. The takeaway message today was something about being on the lookout for those who question the divine order and by definition are harmful. That was not new, chances were they might get fewer patients for time being and then a bunch of heavier cases which would have been easily prevented by early intervention. /oh well, at least life never got boring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laserbeak, you naughty bird.


	6. Phantom Limbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh goodness, this is becoming more gruesome. Yay? Nay? Uhoh? I'll go with the last one.

He could feel the air currents traveling over the sensitive spikes on his head, or at least the ones that remained uncovered by the bandages.The painkillers were wearing off and so was his drowsiness. His consciousness had become more reliable, now making connections between the basic tactile information from his surroundings and his higher mental functions. 

He noted the fine tremors of the bustle outdoors, noises associated with early afternoon seeped through the cracks in the windows. Carboners were offering their wares for the refueling period, over that layer of clamor he could hear murmur of the crowd, scuffle of pedes on the sidewalks, churn and grind of gears, crackle of combustion tanks, boiling liquid to a point it evaporated and drove steam through their systems. The same steam that had rendered him blind. He instantly shut down that train of thought, self pity was unbecoming of him.

A tendril of thoughts uncurled in his mind and snatched at the memory of Laserbeak, she was here somewhere, he had to find her. Soundwave zoomed his attention from noises outside to the medical ward, concluding that nobody was there to stop him. He opened optics, his vision remained blurry. The nurse had explained that he was due for an operation on fixing those when his graver injuries were healed. He sat up in his berth, the complimentary fireworks which tended to accompany every his movement these past days were still present but to a much lesser extent. Shaking his head did not help, he soon discovered.  
  
He tested his arms and legs and deemed them steady. He slid down the berth expecting to hit the ground and when he did his knees gave out from under him without putting up a struggle. He scrambled for the berth side to stay upright but only managed pulling the covers down with him and sliding to the floor in a heap. Apparently not steady enough.  
He let his overexcited gyros stabilize and attempted standing up again only to bump into the neighboring berth.  
His patience snapped, he would regret this later but beggars could not be choosers. He tested his vocalizer and moment later a pulse of ultrasound traveled through the room, bouncing off the walls and furniture and returning to his audials, mapping the room in his mind, return of the festive dots in his head was a small price to pay.  
Back to his target - Laserbeak.

Arcee was head nurse for a reason. She was practically running the place as long as medical expertise was out of picture. She managed the appointments, the opening hours and the supply stocks and, more often than not enforced order. Ratchet was eternally grateful to her for that.  
Alas with great power came great responsibilities. While Bumblebee was supposed to be on cleaning duty today he had slunk out to watch Knock Out’s back during his outing. Keeping an eye on societal waves was the responsibility of the red grounder, guarding the red grounder was the responsibility of Bumblebee, and it was the responsibility of Arcee to fill in for him when Bee was out.  
Thus currently she was busy removing the soot from where she had perched herself on one of the support beams, high up in one of the corners of the ceiling. With acrobatic grace she would move from one corner to another, sometimes, although begrudgingly she had to admit she missed her extra appendages, if only a little.  
A glance down and she saw a shadow glide over the sunlit hallway. Her optics narrowed and she crouched low, keeping quiet. It must have been that bird from this morning. She scoffed to herself, trust Knock Out to leave the critter unattended, she made a mental note to have a talk with the red medic once he was back. Her attention back to the sunlit hallway she waited for the shadow to flit by again. Judging by how it moved escape was not its primary aim, rather it looked like it was merely exploring, probably searching for its master. The wandering shadow changed direction and moved towards the hallway where Arcee waited. Instinctively she pulled herself into the shadowy corner, adopting a predatory crouch.

Laserbeak floated through the halls cautiously, purposefully keeping to higher places to soundlessly hover above the heads of the residents. A strategy she used quite often to conveniently stay out of sight as mechs did not often glance above their direct line of sight. She had passed the grouchy one, playfully fluttering just above his chevron and then pulled up a bit higher to stay out of sight of the quiet yellow one. The smaller they were the more likely they were to look up. Then she perched on one of the light fixtures to rest for a moment. The red MadEye mech had kept the tarp on her cage so she hadn’t been able to take a good look around.  
So far so good. The house was not large on its own but it had a fair share or corridors and passages. One part of it looked designated for visitors and the other one served as living quarters. She crawled up the light fixture and skittered insecticon-like over the ceiling, enjoying the view of the world upside down. That was how she usually got around in the gladiatorial pits but unlike the pits this ceiling was not a territory she had to share with insecticons. She dallied a bit until she intercepted Soundwave’s voice. She immediately released her hold on the ceiling and dropped down, tracing an elegant arch mid-air to regain the correct position for flight. She steered left and took to the corridor which lead in direction of the sound. She did not get far though as a dusty rag landed on top of her and she went down with an inelegant squawk.

Arcee counted this as one point in her favor against the troublesome flyer. She leaped down and restrained the avian gently enough not to damage it but with enough strength to dissuade any further struggling. The little thing had the gall to hiss at her from under the cloth and nip at her fingers, so much for gratitude. That was when she felt a fine tremor, it reverberated between her plating and between her and the little flight frame on the floor. She dismissed it as a stray shiver she got every now and then, something related to air currents and resumed her task. Then she felt it again, an involuntarily shiver or a tickle, and again with increasing frequency. Arcee looked around her frantically for the source until a hulking angular shape stepped soundlessly into the corridor.

It took a couple of seconds for Arcee to come to grips that it was in fact their resident patient. She was transfixed by sight before her, the way the gladiator moved, still unstable, the length of his arms enabling him to partially lean on his knuckles whilst still remaining somewhat upright. Her optics settled on the bare chest cavity with eerily purple spark glowing from underneath the bandages and hesitantly she drew her sight up towards the scarred face with unseeing optics. Her question on how he maneuvered in the confined space without vision was soon answered when he opened his mouth. Arcee expected him to say something but instead he released another one of those pulses. The avian in her grasp was wriggling with renewed vigor, chirping impatiently.

-” Nautilus?” Arcee’s tanks made an uncomfortable hiccup when that eerie face snapped to look at her directly. 'Look' maybe was not the right word, to focus her? “You hear me, right?” She had spoken to him during her visits. Arcee was convinced he could understand but for some reason did not respond. “Your friend will be with you by tonight but you still need to heal.”  
Soundwave picked up on her voice and interpreted the surroundings through it without paying much attention to what it was she was saying. His head was starting to throb. Laserbeak had made herself known and he unfurled the feelers from his chest. He went through the motion slowly just to dissuade the nurse from attempting to stop him without making her think he was about to attack her.  
Rightfully he heard a gasp, if the nurse had not been terrified until now he was quite certain this would send her running for the hills. He pulsed again and extended the feelers towards the two shapes before him. He heard a noise of scrambling feet and the triumphant chirr of Laserbeak who had gotten herself free. Automatically Soundwave extended his arm to let her settle on his wrist. He relaxed when he felt the familiar weight and scrape of her claws against his plating. They should be leaving now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blind and mute characters are challenging to write. If you have any tips on how to do it better let me know.  
> Soundwave is a submarine hence the echolocation and also because Soundwave.  
> I try to not make this too angsty but dang, Everyone in this fick has problems.


	7. High Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than usual because I was trying new things. This resulted in so many rewrites of this chapter I thought I might never finish it, so out it had to come.  
> Therefore I would like to make a shoutout to the lovely ohmygiddyaunt for making this chapter so much more streamlined.

Knock Out followed the crowd as it slowly flowed around the pristine white arches of the temple of Primus. The consecrated carbon had been distributed and a cloud of smoke was now thickening around the worshipers. He smiled and acknowledged some mechs he recognized: mostly past patients, some acquaintances, and some mechs he interacted with out of sheer necessity. The companions of other sorts, though present, did not acknowledge him, and he returned the courtesy.

Speak of the devil; he noticed his former mentor standing a little to the side of the temple square, avoiding the general flow of worshipers. Knock Out ducked his head to blend in with the crowd. Pharma was having an animated discussion with someone Knock Out could not recognize—a tall, purple mech who had a mask obscuring his features. Was that Tarn? Since when had he changed his colors? Knock Out let out a calming vent and made a mental note that 'large and purple' were the parameters he wanted to avoid from now on.

He was about to make a smooth and uneventful exit when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. Knock Out wanted to dismiss it, but the tapper was insistent, so he glanced over his shoulder, schooling his features when he saw who it had been.

Smoke-something…right, Smokescreen, a young noble who was not an heir and thus currently attended the Elite Guard academy. He was full of dreams and aspirations, and his willingness to prove himself led him to be the perfect wingmech to break the social ice for Knock Out; more often than not, those were also the qualities which annoyed him in the cadet.

-"Inspiring speech, eh? Someone's enthusiastic," Knock Out quipped with a charming smile.

-"Yeah…" Smokescreen stopped abruptly and shifted from one foot to the other, mulling something over in his mind. Knock Out lifted his optic ridge and smiled roguishly. -"Out with it, cadet." Smokescreen's optics flashed. - "Err, I-I wanted to introduce you to someone, real quick!" He grabbed Knock Out's hand and started pulling him out of the safety of the crowd, towards the two mechs the red grounder had been trying to observe from a safe distance.

Oh no, oh no no. Usually he would mentally steel himself for these meetings, and he was nowhere near ready to face these two on such short notice. But—there they were. Smokescreen stood ramrod straight before the two imposing figures, and then saluted. -"Doctor, Head Inquisitor, it is a pleasure to meet you here." Knock Out scrambled for anything civil and offered a polite bow as a manner of greeting, optics fixed on the floor. He conjectured Smokescreen was too shy to approach the mechs alone, so he needed a wingmech of his own.

The red medic was hesitant to lift his optics to the two officials, but he did not have to look them in their faces to feel mild amusement emanating from them. They probably were intrigued by anyone who dared approach them in such a casual manner. Knock Out deliberately quashed any embarrassment he felt on behalf of the younger bot, and focused fully on controlling the anxiety which was completely his own. Tarn exchanged looks with Pharma, but then his optics fell on the Academy badge that adorned one of Smokescreen's shoulders, and took on a knowing glint.

-"It is, indeed, a pleasure to see a cadet as young as yourself amongst the worshipers, and outside of the obligatory sessions, too." In public, Knock Out noted, the brute was the epitome of civility. -"I found the lecture you gave in the academy most insightful," Smokescreen chirped in response. -"Ah, yes, 'The Natural Order of Classes' is what you are referring to?" Pharma ventured, and Smokescreen confirmed his guess with a quote he remembered. Knock Out groaned inwardly, wishing he could have been anywhere else at the moment.

Luckily for him, the two high-ranking officials radiated impatience, which made Smokescreen finally back off. Knock Out was relieved that he would get away from the situation before the attention moved on to him.

-"Ah, and your friend…a fellow cadet?" Like that, Pharma resumed their interaction.

Knock Out's vents hitched; he could feel their stares searching his chassis for an indicator of some sort. An old badge of "Medics Without Borders" drew their attention. It was embossed on his shoulder plating, so subtle one had to pay good attention to spot it. -"Ah, I see, the gentle spark devoted to helping those not blessed by Primus," Pharma supplied, since Knock Out had failed to reply. Though the movement had initially been envisioned as universal medical help to anyone who could not afford paying for the service, their popularity among lower castes which were known to function without combustion tanks had lead to them being perceived as veterinary physicians.

-"What is your designation, good fellow?" Knock Out had started taking measured breaths, trying desperately to remain calm. That did not go unnoticed. -"Are you alright, little one?" Pharma bent to touch his shoulder. Knock Out wished he could have had the luxury of recoiling, but, instead of inviting even more attention, he finally spoke.

-"I, ah, forgive me, Doctor. I'm just overwhelmed from actually meeting you in person…." He repressed a shudder, lifted his face in Pharma's direction, and smiled brightly, making his cheeks crease so much that he did not actually have to look at him. "...I had never hoped to warrant your attention." 'Wished' might have been a more appropriate statement.

-"Actually, I happen to have a pet that is not fairing too well. Would you mind, terribly, to pass by some day to take a look at it?" Tarn offered, clearly trying to put the little red grounder at ease by appealing to his perceived strengths. Knock Out's mouth was running dry; he nodded meekly, staring at the ground again. Tarn was so close to him—he could not let his voice waver. Instead, he tried reassuring himself with the thought that Ratchet had reconstructed him almost from scratch; there was No Way for them to know his former identity. Thus reassured, he drew a vent and looked the large purple mech straight in the eye -"Of course, it is no trouble at all."

Pharma cleared his throat, thus drawing Tarn's attention away from the lovely ruby optics.

-"If you are interested in the follow-up of the lecture, I believe we may be having a more in-depth session on this subject later this month." He spoke to Smokescreen, but clearly he intended it for everyone involved in the conversation. -"I'm sure you will find it enlightening, and, of course, I would like to extend this invitation to your friend, as well." Smokescreen responded enthusiastically enough for both Knock Out and himself, being both grateful and excited. The red medic just inclined his head again with a muttered -"Thank you," and then both officials were on their way.

The red grounder barely registered being dragged somewhere again until, a glass of kerosene pressed into his hand, he tuned back into the conversation. Smokescreen's optics were glowing with happiness as he chattered about opportunities of a lifetime and 'so close one could touch.' Knock Out's mind was numb; just a half-sparked conversation with those two had left him feeling filthy and broken, and he had believed that he was over feeling that way. Consorting with those mechs was bad news, but Smokescreen was right, it was a rare opportunity. The question was what he would be willing to sacrifice for such an opportunity.

Feeling unwell, Knock Out excused himself and took a detour home.

-"KO, you okay?" Bumblebee joined him halfway down the street, weaving playfully around him. Knock Out chose not to respond, but slowed down to cruise alongside the black and yellow mech. -"That bad?" More silence. -"You can tell me when you are ready."

His return home offered no solace, though. He followed the commotion to the medical ward. The bird that was supposed to be in his quarters darted over his head carrying a piece of bandage like some sort of billowing flag, followed by a disconcerted Arcee.

-"Fetch Colossus, will you? We have an issue."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you feel a tad queasy on behalf of Knock Out, it had been fully intended, if you do not, I probably failed in my attempt.


	8. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey there dear readers and welcome back! I will get on my soap box for this one. Some of you might find the second part of this chapter triggery. If anything listed below makes you cringe, consider being warned.  
> The red flags: Manipulation, Autopsy, Unprofessional apprentice/teacher relationships, mild dismemberment, all good reasons :)  
> Abridged version - bad things happen.
> 
> Also in the past KO had a different color scheme.  
> Finally a shout-out to Harpokrates for going through this marvel and smoothing a couple of snags.

**7 years prior current events**

After their bout on religious truths and scientific speculation, Ratchet and Knock Out headed deeper into what seemed to be an underground vault. They passed some alcoves closed off by draperies; faint blue glow emanated from the seams they made against the floor and walls. Knock Out was curious, but since Ratchet ploughed ahead he had no choice but to follow.

The curiosities did not stop as he inspected contents of one cabinet with clearly displayed examples of ammonite evolution transitional stages (1). But that was not their objective tonight either. Ratchet pulled the tarp to the side, revealing a large slab of densely-packed ferric earth - the type most likely to hold well-preserved fossils. Inside, there was a perfectly preserved piece of mechanical chest. Knock Out's amused curiosity was swiftly replaced by panic.

-"T-This is heresy. Why did you have to show me this?!" Knock Out regarded the fossil through the lattice of his own fingers, horrified. He had not been expecting this.

-" Pharma sent you to spy on my research." It was more of a statement rather than a question. Sending someone who was privy to his schemes would have made it much more obvious especially with someone as suspicious as Ratchet. Sending in an unsuspecting young trainee and then casually asking him questions about the nature of Ratchet's work would have given him a much greater portfolio to add to the case. Ratchet turned around to face the turquoise automobile

-" Do you know what will happen to you when you tell him about his?"

Knock Out's intakes faltered, of course he knew. It was not common knowledge, but when and if any controversial discoveries were made they were confiscated, destroyed and anyone who had seen them apart from the inquisition themselves was terminated. He would end up no different no matter how 'valued' Pharma told him he was.

-"Oh slag." It was an almost whisper - tremulous and breathy. " I'm - I'm a dead mech!" He slid down the wall, venting heavily.

-" You are inexperienced, not dead." Ratchet grumbled and came to stand by him.

-"H-he thinks I am expendable." Even more so, he felt used.

-"I am pretty sure it is nothing personal." Ratchet gave him a small, kind smile. -" He thinks that of everyone."

-"I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead." He repeated the words like a mantra pushing himself into a corner.

-"You will live for a bit, if you are smart. Pharma will not ask you outright." Ratchet continued, but seeing that Knock Out was pushing himself into a stupor he knelt next to the young bot and tentatively put his hand on his shoulder. Knock Out winced but did not pull back.

-"I can help you."

Knock Out´s crimson optics narrowed, boring holes in Ratchet. He did pull back then, barking a laugh. -" Yeah, and get used by you instead? No thank you, I'll take care of myself." He started pulling himself up.

-"Why don't you hear me out first before passing hasty judgement?"

-" What is there to hear? You two are old rivals and Pharma saw it fit to involve me. I for one want to have no part of it!"

-"Then what is your plan? You know that he will not leave you alone."

-"That is none of your business." The turquoise grounder stood up briskly, getting ready to leave.

Ratchet sighed, time to lay some ground rules if this was ever going to work. -"You can stay under my conditions or you can pull out. In case you decide on the latter, I will tell Pharma about your leave three days from now. Think about it or use it as a head start. If you decide to work with me or if you need help, you can find me here."

He handed Knock Out a thin metallic card with an address embossed on it. Knock Out stared at it in disbelief as his fingers automatically closed around the card without him even thinking about it.

* * *

The gears in Knock Out's head were spinning faster than he could take it. He transformed into his automobile mode and darted down the road. What to do? To stay, to run?

He crashed through the door into his modest dwelling. Only one room large, enough for a berth and a mirror. He slammed the door shut and slid down against it, hugging himself, trying to understand his part in this grand scheme. All he knew for sure was that he was disposable. He could run and raise suspicions or stay and be used as a pawn.

At least Ratchet had been honest with him, or had he? How likely was that fossil to be real? What would his repercussions be if he left? What if Ratchet had indeed discovered that they did not need combustion? Then a significant part of the research behind their bodies was wrong!

He jogged his memory, remembering some of the older corpses stocked in the academy for learning purposes. There had been weld marks on the combustion chamber of one of them. Then he had been assured that the corpse had been repaired as the combustion chamber had broken off due to the age of the corpse…or it might have been added posthumously. The idea was toxic, contagious; he needed more proof.

* * *

-"Knock Out, dear friend, how can I help you?"

-"Thank you for hearing me out. I thought it would be good to refresh my working knowledge on cybertronian bodies before I started in Ratchet´s practice." The turquoise grounder smiled uneasily at his superior. -"He was happy with me, but I am fearing that I have become too academic in my approach and I would like to jog my memory with some dead mechs first before setting a scalpel to the living ones. Would you happen to have a body you would not miss? Preferably old and broken?"

-"Always careful." Pharma smiled - "I will see if I can find something for you. On a more personal note, could I ask you for a small gesture in return? I must admit I sometimes wonder how the old mech is doing." There it was, Knock Out felt the bottom of his tank run cold.

-" Do you want me to spy on him?"

Pharma laughed, a rich, warm sound.

-" You make it sound worse than it is, dear Knock Out. At one point we taught at the academy together but years of rivalry have caused a rift between us. I can't quite ask him myself; I hope you understand."

Knock Out smiled meekly. -" Please keep me out of your relationship with Ratchet. But if you care so much I will make sure to keep you updated. Now, about those corpses..."

* * *

His servos trembled; he was so agitated he feared his entire being would explode into tiny bits. It was that same corpse. He did not know how it had happened or which stroke of luck had landed him there, but it was the one he had been looking forward to examine. Gingerly, he felt for the chest plating and opened it, the hinges and locks had been removed for the sake of convenience. There it was, the combustion tank attached and odd weld-marks visible - contrasting starkly against the otherwise dead plating.

Carefully, he scraped the metallic tissue on the combustion tank and other parts of inner plating for test samples. He assumed that if Ratchet was correct, then the isotopes in the combustion tank should be younger than the ones in the rest of the body. Of course, just one sample was not enough, so he took tissue from other bodies for cross-examination. Though…

Their bodies had faint scarring around the pipes where the combustion tank sat. Those scars had formed while the mechs had still been alive. He faintly recalled a lecture focusing on how that scarring came to be. Apparently during first ignition, the pipelines were not accustomed to high heat and pressure and suffered mild damage before their bodies got accustomed to it. But pipe rupture caused a messier scar than than a medical incision for attaching a whole new part, and that was what the scarring on all of them indicated.

He sat down at the medical table and tapped his chin. Where was he going with this? He chuckled at himself. He was probably blowing this entire thing out of proportion.

Still. He returned to the samples - it took a while to extract the isotopes from the tissue, so he busied himself with examining the remaining bodies at his disposal.

He spent his entire night in the lab. The test samples had come up controversial at best. The body he had had his suspicions about had not turned to be as mysterious as the others he examined. The combustion tank and the body were about the same age. The others however… The tanks were older than the bodies… Which meant they had been surgically added after the bots had emerged and...the scarring had been done surgically.

-"Did you find what you were looking for?"

Knock Out jumped at hearing Pharma's voice, he had entered without making a sound.

-" Pharma, ah. I must have lost track of time."

-" Indeed, especially if you were looking for something particular." Knock Out felt his colleague's servo slide lower to his aft. The normally playful gesture now made him shiver.

-" Nay, just practicing." Knock Out tried playing coy.

-" Then how about we wrap this up for tonight." Pharma wrapped him in his arms and plucked the research notes from the table. - " Most interesting information. And what does it tell you?"

Knock Out faltered. - " That we should pay more attention to preserving the internals."

* * *

They spent their remaining time in a manner they usually did - in Pharma's private quarters. Usually Knock Out felt tired and satiated afterwards but this time around he was uneasy.

-" What seems to be the matter, darling?"

The endearment was casual and meant nothing, Knock Out reminded himself as he untangled himself from Pharma's relaxed limbs. He went about it carefully, unwilling to endure the complaints about how some protruding areas of plating were more sensitive than others.

-"Just anxious about my new responsibilities." Knock Out answered Pharma before standing up. -" I think I will retire for the day."

-"You have been at it for so long, I admire your thoroughness. I also will miss your company in the lab." The turquoise grounder had not paid much heed to this remark until the evening of the same day when Knock Out heard knock on the door of his apartment. With the last glance in the mirror, he almost flew to answer the door. He had been impatient for their meeting all day.

-"Who is it?" He called out, not willing to be pranked by anybody - last time someone had left a bucket of slag in front of his door and...well, that was not a nice memory for Knock Out but someone sure had had fun at his expense.

-"K-Knockout.." A slurred voice, but a familiar one nonetheless. He rolled his optics and opened the door.

-"About time, where were...?" The words died in his throat, sure it was Breakdown in front of him, at least some part of it was Breakdown. The rest was...his hands shot to his mouth.

Breakdown's head was dangling upside down from his still-attached spinal strut, moments later it was thrown at Knock Out who scrambled to catch what remained of his lover without adding more harm.

-"W-what happened?" The medic demanded, forcing himself to think how and if he could fix it without panicking. Then, he looked towards his opened door again and finally noticed a hand splattered in internal liquids, then, a slate-grey wall of a chestplate and when he raised his optics, he saw a mask and two glowing red optics.

-"T-Tarn?" Knock Out's face contorted in a grimace of terrified anger.

-"Knock...run." Breakdown's voice pushed out of his vocalizer somewhere against Knock Out's chassis before his voice fizzled out.

* * *

Several days later, Ratchet went out his back door for a gulp of what passed for fresh air in their area. He groaned when he saw a heap of leaking parts deposited in a bag next to his back door. Some coroners had the most peculiar way of dropping off spare parts for him but he was not about to complain. He pushed the bag with the tip of his foot, trying to assess the contents; it released a staticky groan. Ratchet cursed, then he opened the bag.

-"Primus!"

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this happened. Told you it was going to become gruesome.  
> (1) The reference to MTMTE Ammonites - Yes, not the terrestrial ones.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	9. Indecent Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter 9 where nobody gets forcefully offlined and we get an insight into Soundwave's part of this mess - aint that nice?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a while - again writing and rewriting... I am still not completely content with it but I can't look at it anymore.

Knock Out raced through the streets at a breakneck speed, the coliseum was on the other side of the town and Arcee had told him to hurry. They needed to get someone over who Nautilus trusted because it was not likely the mech would be inclined to cooperate with them. At least not after the stunt he pulled and Primus, did they need a translator.

The streets were unusually busy for the time of the day and the crowds grew thicker as he approached the Pits, so much so that alt-mode travel was impossible. Knock Out transformed into his root mode and waded into crowds, passing the stalls of exotic trinkets, and colored carbon, blue glowing birdseed and pots full of nickelillies. Ah, there must be another pit fight going on in the arena for so many merchants to be gathered.

He yelped when he felt someone scratch up his bumper. -”Hey, watch the paint!” He had been pressed to one of the cages of exotic animal vendors. The mech-sized cage housed an insecticon which dwarfed Knock Out. The creature had taken the opportunity of venting it’s frustration by lashing at someone who was foolish enough to come too close. Knock Out sneered at the creature and it chittered in response, amused.

Had he had more time he would have started an argument with the vendor but not today. He pressed through the excited crowd and pushed his way forward, wincing inwardly as more frames pushed and _scraped_ against his plating.

-”Medics without Borders here to see to the injured!” Knock Out announced, pointing at his barely-there insignia when he got to the the front of the line at the entrance door of the coliseum. He graciously ignored the complains of the mecha he had butted in front of. He was not exactly famous but he was known in the pits and this provided him with some pocket money and much-needed experience, now, however it provided him with free pass with no waiting.

-”Hey, Longhaul! Who is on and who is out?” He asked  a large cargo vehicle with a name to fit since the mech literally Hauled the remains of the fallen gladiators off the arena.

-”Got a couple of fractured pipes over there and Colossus´s on against Overlord now.” That was bad news, from what Knock Out recalled both mechs were quite evenly matched and whatever came out of that arena, would not be in one piece and less than half alive. No wonder there were so many nickelillies available for purchase.

What he hoped would happen was Megatron ending up being just damaged enough so that they could get Ratchet's insane plan to work... not without some careful bribery and blackmailing but Knock Out could handle that for them.

Having this thought in mind, the red medic jovially headed towards the improvised medical station. There was no getting to the gladiator now anyway so he would justify his presence until the match was over.

Back in the medical ward Arcee could not wrap her head around why a mech would want to leave whilst clearly _falling apart_. She looked at the lanky dark figure lying on the berth before her, his spark casing was far from healed and now his chest and spark were secured with a thicker layer of bandages.

Had it not been for the injuries, which, she was suspecting, originated as much from his last fight as from general mistreatment of his frame, the mech would have garnered plenty of admiring looks. And he probably will, in future, she assured herself for the benefit of the patient. For now thouth, he was sedated but awake, and clearly unhappy about it.

The head nurse puffed a vent, shooting him a disapproving look. Not that it mattered, he could not see her anyway. -”You sure do not make our work easy.” After his impressive entrance to the hallway (which had startled the daylights out of Arcee) he had started slowly keeling to one side, despite stubbornly trying to stay upright, cables and all. Arcee and Ratchet half dragged, half carried Soundwave back to his berth wiith a ditressed bird hovering above their heads. His spark casing was far from healed and had he stayed up any longer it would have literally rolled out of his chest.

_Tap, tap, tap._

She turned to look at him. -”Wait, uh, I know you and Colossus speak like this but..” Suddenly she felt foolish, she could have figured this out long ago and just maybe they could have forgone all this bizarre running away. If only she had paid more attention to how he communicated and had actually _listened_ to him.

_Tap, tap, tap_

Arcee then felt a pulse coming from Soundwave, not only was he asking for her attention, he, in his own way, was shouting at her.-”Just a sec, let me get notes.” She gently yet firmly grasped his forearm, -”I promise we will get this to work.” Soundwave cringed from the contact but Arcee did not let that dissuade her. She reached into a drawer for a blank medical record sheet and something to write with. She frowned seeing a tiny spider-bot crawl out from under the sheets and tried smacking it before it got away but it jumped and disappeared under the berth faster than she could catch it. Flustered but not less determined she decided to deal with that later and focused on her patient -”Let us start easy.”

Soundwave was unhappy, to be more accurate, he was intermittently unhappy, disappointed and annoyed. He did not want to be there - all drugged and bandaged in a way that not only covered his injuries but also prevented his attempts of escaping. He was used to the fact that he could not communicate what he needed in the most common way. He had devised many workarounds for his own convenience but none of them included being completely tied down and not under any actual threat. He could have broken free at a cost of hurting the nurse and would have hated himself for it. In a sense he was disarmed in face of obnoxious well-meaning.

Soundwave pulsed again just to get a grasp of what was happening around him. The nurse had taken it as a sign of impatience, good for her. If anything, he was grateful to be treated as a fully capable mech despite his speach impediment, not everyone understood difference between being mute and mentally challenged. For that alone he was willing to forsake his standoffish attitude for the time being and attempt communication.

-”Tell me how you say ‘Yes’.”

He tapped, heard scribbling and briefly wondered how she was recording this. Then the nurse followed up with more questions on basic answers like “No” and “I don’t know”, “Good”, “Bad” and “Help”.

When she was done he tapped out a string of  “ _Help, Help, Help”_

-”You need help.”

_Yes_

-”What kind of help do you…” Arcee mentally slapped herself, they were not that far yet, she had no means of understanding a more complex answer from him. -”I meant, Do you feel pain?”

_No, just take me out of my misery._

-"Wait, I did not get all of that." Arcee furrowed her brow,

Soundwave groaned, this would take forever, Megatron would have known how to translate this.

-”I know this is not very quick but I promise we are getting there.” Arcee was getting more familiar with Soundwave’s body language and him tensing up did not go unnoticed. She tried offering some consolation. -” Knock Out is on his way to get Colossus and he is not back yet. Let us try getting some things out of the way until they come. I want you to help me figure out why you wanted to escape.”

Wasn’t that the question of the day, Soundwave wondered bitterly. He did not trust these bots but they had not yet proven dangerous or maleficent, if Laserbeak was correct in her assessment. Hence Soundave opted to avoid further antagonising them. He vented out, steeled himself to be _patient_ resigned to tapping.

* * *

 

Knock Out was elbow-deep in somebot’s chassis when he heard the bell announce the end of the round. No ovations and no prestige could be heard. He strained his audials for a moment, trying to make out any more subtle sounds but nothing came out apart from the moan from his patient, right, he had gotten distracted.

Knock Out continued patching up the mech and listened more. Silence spelt bad news for their plan of involving the Colossus, or Megatron, as Orion had corrected him, but such was the fate of gladiators. Either way Knock Out quickly finished up with the mech before him and waited for the arena gate to open. Assessing if anything or anyone were salvageable was a skill the red automobile had perfected.

Finally, the gates to the arena parted, opening up to the steaming, crumpled chassis of Megatron being dragged behind the scenes, bits of coal falling out of his combustion tank (likely a hit to the gut), followed by a limp frame of Overlord who looked in better condition but had more holes in chassis.

On a good day Knock Out would have made the gladiator keepers bid on which one of their proteges would get treated first but today Knock Out had other agenda.

Both of the opponents were badly hurt but had not managed offlining each other during the match. Understandably their keepers were not happy. Both Megatron and Overlord were a rather large investment - keeping them well - geared and visually appealing apparently cost more than their keepers were willing to pay in cases they got damaged this badly. But that was OK, Knock Out was not adverse to receiving payment in services and neither was Ratchet. Offering repairs free of charge would make them indebted and more willing to ‘lend’ their possessions.

-“ I beg your pardon, are these chassis for sale?” Knock Out traced a trail of leaking oil on Megatron’s chassis with one of his claws, being careful to avoid the streams of pressurised hot steam.

-" Get your scrawny digits off my property, scavenger.” That was Megatron’s keeper, known as Galvatron, extremely proud about the entire gladiator thing, also greedy.

Brash dismissal did not dissuade Knock Out, he was used to those, so he tapped his chin and sauntered towards wheezing Overlord.

-”How about this one? I bet you he is worth more as spare parts than gladiator material now.”

The keeper of Overlord answered nothing. It was true but due to their success both Overlord and Megatron had also become symbols of sorts. Repairing them would cost, disposing of them would cost even more.

-”I could offer repairing one of them in exchange for some services.” Knock Out examined his claws, all non-chalance. -”But decision will soon be not yours to make. This one.” He pointed at Megatron, -”Would expire first.” Even if that was not necessarily true, further stalling would culminate with just that. Clearly Galvatron had no contingency plans in place for cases like these - he had been too assured in the power of his possession. Overlord's owner just sneered and called out to his crew instead.

-”What sort of services?” Galvatron seemed more interested now, seeing that the owner of his main opponent was not about to let his possession die.

-"I would waive the fees if you would agree to lend me your precious subject from time to time. Free of charge, of course."

 Galvatron looked hesitant. -"And you dare call yourself a medic without boundaries, you are supposed to offer help to any downed mech."

-”Medics without boundaries got disbounded ages ago. I am only morally bound to follow their ideology. It is a corrupt world." Knock Out shrugged and smiled sweetly. -"Tick tock, sweetspark." 

-"Fine."

Knock Out's optics lit up, this was a good start.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knock Out is not a nice mech but he is capable of genuinely caring.  
> Just maybe not in the most ethical way.


	10. Intervention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo-boy, It has been a while since I updated this story but I had a bit of a creative burnout after finishing Flight of Fancy and I refuse to rush this little thing because it requires a lot of attention to detail.
> 
> But lookie here - this chapter is Über long (Please note the use of letter 'Ü' for emphasis), at least longer than I usually put out so it kind of counts like 2 chapters right? Right? Right. Glad you agree, dear readers :D
> 
> Anyhow I am super excited about this chapter, things happen, not all of them bad things, so please enjoy!

* * *

Knock Out and Ratchet washed their hands after surgery. The older medic had not been happy about Knock Out's actions for a myriad of reasons but even he could not deny that his apprentice had brought a solution to their doorstep. However it looked like the grounder was holding something back. In Knock Out's case it could be anything from a minuscule remark to serious trouble which he thought he could handle on his own.

-"Did something else happen?"

Knock Out paused in drying his hands before resuming the action - a clear sign something was up. Ratchet pinned him with his stare and Knock Out vented, pinching a ridge between his optics.

-"In the arena… a mech approached me over Nautilus's case, he wanted to see the body."

-"There is no body." Ratchet frowned, crossing arms on his chassis. - "Was there supposed to be one?"

-"He expected Nautilus to perish." With air of exasperation Knock Out sighed and threw the towel into the bin to be washed and disinfected later.

-"Not unusual in the pit setting, but we saved him, someone else paid for him, everyone but the poor slagger unconscious in the operation room wins. So what has your pipes all jumbled?" Ratchet said all this without even slightest inflection.

-"He did not want Nautilus to survive. Colossus, or Megatron, the gladiator we operated on just now confirmed that his owner was convinced Nautilus had not made it."

Ratchet's optics narrowed, mouth drawing into a scowl. Now That was not usual, especially for a high-ranked gladiator.

-"What did you tell him?"

Knock Out sighed, that had been his mistake, he should have just said that the gladiator had made it after all and been done with it but no. Who needed easy ways out?

-"I, ah, might have told him that the bodies which are not retrieved within legal time boundaries get smelted, so we have no part of him left."

Ratchet did not even comment on that, he steepled his fingers over his nasal ridge and hummed praying for patience. -"Can't argue against that but did he buy it?"

Knock Out paused, optics straying to the side, mouth pulling in a wry smile. -"With all the talk about how this particular gladiator is a threat to the world as we know it, I doubt that."

-"So that was a fanatic." It was a statement rather than a question. Ratchet's scowl deepened.

-"He mentioned the word "Outlier" at least six times so it is safe to assume that."

Outliers… they were rare; to actually classify as one, a mechanism had to possess skills not associated with their alt mode and by definition be outlawed Or employed directly by the inquisition. Outlier hunts were the reason why many highly skilled but not quite outlier-class mecha had been extinguished on false accusations. Ratchet himself had been under the scrutiny of inquisition once, reported as an outlier for his extraordinary healing abilities. That was the time when he had been somewhat grateful for all the records of the mishaps and mistakes he had committed at the beginning of his career. Whilst usually causing him a deep sense of regret, they had saved his life. Probably that and his good relationship with Pharma back then.

-"Did he say anything else?"

-"He threatened to turn me in for hiding outliers if we did not present a body to him."

That was not new either, such threats came and went but it never hurt to be cautious. Especially with regards of how "I" inevitably turned into "we". They were in this mess together and Ratchet was still unsure if he liked Knock Out's decision to lie about the patient's fate. Nautilus had been mistreated, that was for sure, but it was one gladiator out of many in exchange for his entire staff that was weighed precariously on scales.

-"How likely do you think he is follow through?"

-"No idea, I have not met the mech before. He did say that he came on behalf of Ratbat. Does that ring a bell to you?"

It did, several of which were alarm bells. Ratbat was not as active in the public setting as he used to be, he abandoned his political career in favor of the role of a grey cardinal, commanding his associates from the safety of his manor. No wonder Knock Out had not heard of him.

Ratchet sighed and rubbed his tired optics, sometimes he wished some of his staff were less prone to getting into trouble, just a little bit. -"Care to join me in the office for a cup of fuel?"

The office of the head medical officer was cluttered. The patient files were kept in excellent order as per medic's training, the incriminating data was not stored in this office at all. That left the crumpled bills, notes, letters and scientific publications often partially scribbled-on or annotated, laying under or supported by a small collection of cups in various sizes. Arcee and Knock Out joined forces at least once a week to order a bit, sift through the things which should stay, go or be destined to the overflowing "undecided bin". The week was coming to a close and the office looked like a war zone once more.

Ratchet pushed a couple of data cards to the side to make space for their cups. He decided to first address the emotionally taxing part of his colleague's day because from what Bumblebee told him, the run-in with Tarn and Pharma earlier that day had left some unpleasant aftereffects. The red grounder in question lifted a box full or bolts (a donation from a well-meaning coroner) off of the visitor's chair to settle in.

-"Last time I moved just before you came in so you might be a bit unfamiliar with the procedure." Ratchet had seen the flaw of keeping his illegal workshop in the same place as his medical practice. When Knock Out had come to him as a student sent from Pharma, he had not been too worried about showing his collection to the impressionable youngster. The entire shebang had been moved to a safer location that same night. However this did not mean that Ratchet kept all his little projects in that safe area so scheduled removal of new suspicious things was vital, especially when far too many objects had found their way back to Ratchet´s public office.

-"You took that warning to the spark didn't you?"

Ratchet frowned and paused solemnly. -"That was unacceptable and I wish you and … those close to you hadn't been caught up in the fallout."

Knock Out mustered a sad smile. The bag of parts Ratchet had found on his doorstep early morning, years ago, had contained what remained of Knock Out and Breakdown. Out of the two mecha only Knock Out had survived, Ratchet had unknowingly used parts of his lover to repair the damage. Because of the chassis overhaul most of the parts remained invisible apart from optics. One of Knock Out's busted optics had to be removed completely and replaced by what had been on hand. At least now he and one another carried a part of Breakdown within him wherever he went. It was a grim consolation.

While they were at the topic they might as well cover all aspects of it so Ratchet ploughed on. -"Bumblebee told me Pharma invited you but you know you don't have to go, right? Nobody will think less of you if you sit this one out." He tried sounding as accommodating as possible. They would not gain much from this and the risk of Knock Out having a breakdown was too high. There were simply too many triggers in one place for this to go down smoothly.

-" I'll manage and I promised Smokescreen." The red medic shrugged

Ratchet lifted an optic ridge at that; Knock Out was not above backing out of uncomfortable settings and at this moment it would have been justified, too.

-"Keeping a good relationship with him is more important." The red grounder shrugged casually. Or in other words - it was personal. Ratchet gave him a long look but filed this train of conversation to be unraveled at a later date, now they had more pressing matters to discuss.

-"How is the transition going?" He turned to rummage through his cabinet and returned with a vial of blue glowing liquid and poured it into cups.

Knock Out winced. -"Still getting used to the taste but I perform better than I ever had with carbon. Whatever you are brewing, It is bound to be illegal."

-"You are better versed than me about the repercussions of this going public."

Knock Out inclined his helm and smiled wistfully, focusing his attention on the bright blue liquid sloshing in the cup. -"That I am."

Agreeable silence settled between them while they finished their beverages. Knock Out regarded the cups with burgeoning feeling of unease and Ratchet allowed him to take those away immediately to avoid distractions. Once that was taken care of, they stood up.

-"Speaking of which, you did the right thing by confirming Nautilus's death." Ratchet paused for a moment seeing his colleague's optics brighten as the statement sank in. He was charitable with praise but he had finally set his mind that, despite repercussions, this time it was well-deserved. -"Fueled for the night?"

-"Indeed, there is much to do and plenty of evidence to falsify." Knock Out gave him a bright smile - out of all his responsibilities this one had to be the most emotionally rewarding one.

The absence of an actual body was going to be an issue but Ratchet knew he could rely on an engineer who ran the smelter he favored. He just had to let him know a frame of such dimensions and looks was brought in on a certain day.

The rest would be more difficult. They would have to remove the patient who by all means should have been in the smelter from the premises in case of a house search. They invited Arcee to discuss the logistics of moving the gladiator. Discharging him was not an option, he was still too fragile, moving him would have to be done with utmost care and secrecy. Orion had a safe house they kept for emergency occasions and it would finally see some use.

Arcee was on board with only half of the plan though. -"We really should tell him all this. He is not some lump of carbon to be hauled around. No wonder he has been trying to escape for how we have treated him so far."

-"We are doing this for his sake."

-"I know, you know, but HE doesn't!"

-"Oh…"

To their relief Arcee volunteered to inform the mech herself. Being the one more skilled at recovering outpatient care she would accompany Nautilus in the safe house to assure he was stable. Bumblebee and Knock Out would secure the journey. In Arcee's absence Bumblebee would take up the duties of the acting nurse in the clinic and Knock Out would stay more in - house to more actively assist with his duties as a medic since Megatron still was a high-risk patient himself. Alternatively Ratchet hoped that would prove to be enough extra load for Knock Out to consider skipping Pharma's invitation.

Bumblebee had already been sent off to warn Orion and the two medics and nurse settled for preparing the supply list. Their meeting was soon interrupted by a ring of a doorbell at the official entrance of the clinic, all three exchanged glances.

-"Are we expecting anyone?" Arcee looked at Knock Out who lifted and optic ridge in a manner of that being a ludicrous question and then turning to Ratchet, who's look darkened. It was too late for regulars so this was either an emergency or trouble had found them sooner than expected. In the wordst case scenario Ratbat had made a move sooner than they had anticipated. If they made it out of this mess alive Ratchet had to speak with Knock Out about conveying the crucial news of the day as soon as possible.

-"Wait here and be on alert." Ratchet warned hastily standing up and between the two mecha. -"If I make noise, hide Nautilus."

Reluctantly Ratchet headed to the front door. The bell rang once more before he reached it. His hand hesitated on the handle before he braced himself and pushed down. The door opened to reveal several enforcers, Ratchet wavered, his hand slipped, bumping against a bowl situated on the small table next to the door and making it clatter loudly to the ground. Though if he had to be honest, Prowl was probably the least of all possible evils. The enforcer was fair and reasonable, and more importantly, owed Ratchet for performing a life-saving operation on his mate.

Ratchet overlooked a team of enforcers and had to reset his voicebox to be able to say anything, -"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Arcee recognized the clatter at the entrance, it was a signal, she had work to do.

She dashed down the hall towards the medical bay, Knock Out joined her shortly veering from one of the adjacent rooms, cleaning supplies in hand.

Quickly and as quietly as possible they entered the medical ward. To their relief Megatron was still under and it was just Nautilus they had to deal with, who, to his credit, was sitting on the berth, attempting to stand up. His helm was turned in their direction as if he had been expecting them. Arcee approached and leant close to the spiked helm whispering urgently.

-" You will be ok but we need you to cooperate. Please be quiet and I beg you do not resist. We are trying to hide you."

Nautilus's cables snaked out and gently felt up her body to wrap around her waist - for support. Once settled Arcee started leading the gladiator towards the hidden chamber in the back of the ward. Knock Out hurried to make Nautilus's berth look unused, hastily pushing the rolls of bandages and empty flasks for coolant into the trash bin and wiping the top of the side-table with his forearm. From the hallway, too near to their liking they heard voices.

-"I am surprised to hear there was a need for law enforcement on my practice. I have my permits and licences in order and we have a patient who needs rest and not being troubled." The conversation was civil, which was promising. Ratchet made sure to sound loud and clear both to dissuade whoever the intruder was and to warn Knock Out and Arcee of their approach.

-"An owner of a gladiator is convinced this is the last location his property had been seen. We have a search warrant for your clinic." Prowl elaborated, doorwings held high and prim.

-"Sure…"

Ratchet tried to keep his pace slow, he even exaggerated a limp he did not have to buy precious time. Ratchet clasped the doorhandles of the medical ward and paused briefly, praying to whoever cared to listen that his staff had had enough time to do their job. He vented slightly and uttered the last warning which he knew the inspectors did not care to hear but his staff would.

-"Patient safety is my primary concern. If you must enter, remain courteous and don't bother my ward "

The gladiator was barely through the hidden opening in the wall when they heard a distinct thud against the medical ward's door and Ratchet's muffled voice, he was giving them the last warning. The red grounder winced and rushed to help Arcee get Nautilus through the doorway, one of the gladiator's shoulder struts was too long to fit through. After a sharp yank and a push, followed by a quiet popping sound which made their patient clamp in discomfort they were finally in. Ratchet's voice drifted across the room as the ward doors opened and the hideout door shut in Arcee's face trapping her in together with Nautilus.

Knock Out managed clicking the door shut in the nick of time. He turned his back to the visitors to rummage with the latches and disguise the passage as a common storage closet. Ratchet entered first, being followed swiftly by a squad of mechs painted black and white - the enforcers.

The red grounder picked up a coolant solution and focused to hide the tremor in his hands. If he was bad, he did not want to imagine how Ratchet felt under that guise of authority and cool competence.

-"Ah, visitors this late?" He sauntered towards the little crowd of mecha, exuding as much charm as possible without it being too obvious. Visual distractions were the best tool in his arsenal and he was relieved to see that it had the desired effect. Optics traveled over his polished chassis, now gleaming burgundy red in the low lamp light.

-"Are these mecha in need of assistance? Are any of you injured?" He looked serious and concerned - a proper medical officer through and through. Ratchet pulled his face in semblance of complacency even if it was far too obvious that he was less than happy with this surprise visit.

-"These officials had received a message from a concerned citizen who had suspicions we were in possession of stolen property."

Both Knock Out and Ratchet stood watching helplessly as the enforcers moved about the ward, turning over unoccupied berths, examining storage closets. Knock Out's vents stilled when they moved their inspection closer to one particular storage cabinet. Prowl eyed the wall and felt against the drawers, probably feeling for the latch.

"Are there supposed to be more rooms in this wing?"

"Yes, the offices and the storage. Shall I escort you?"

"Yes, please."

I their cramped hideout Arcee felt a light tap on her shoulder.

_-Pain_

She felt something twitch under her fingers and realized that she had been clutching the gladiator's digits all this time. The nurse released the appendages quickly and rushed to apologize only to feel a digit pressing to her lips - a sign to stay quiet.

Without making any further noise she nodded and the digit was removed.

They both became more alert when footsteps approached their hiding place. Being of a lower temperature output, Arcee could clearly feel the heat emanating from the gladiator's frame; it wafted mercilessly against her back. Nautilus was burning up and she was not sure if it was only agitation or also fever. Combined with the feeling of her spark pounding in her audials the air was becoming unbearably hot and stifling. She could feel her claws retracting in response to feeling trapped and threatened.

The conversation in the medical ward was muffled by the thick door but she could still feel the footsteps resonating against the floor, making the flooring tremble as they approached them. She startled and nearly made a noise when two sets of digits clasped her shoulders. Arcee inclined her helm to give Nautilus a side-wise glance marveling at how relaxed his posture felt. Even his arm joints felt so pliant and mobile in contrast to her tense nervousness. Of course, he was a gladiator after all, one could not fight with locked joints which meant that he was preparing to do just that.

The steps stopped right in front of the door. In the dark confines of the room Nautilus's biolights brightened slightly, the eerie purple hue still far too dim to be healthy. It was not common for mecha to have such extravagant illumination but in frames intended for deep- water work it served a purpose.

They heard the noise of fingers scratching against the surface of the shelf that hid them slowly, meticulously, with purpose. Arcee could feel Nautilus shifting his grip on her shoulders. Angling her body slightly to the side as if to prepare to shove her out of the way when the moment came for it… or to use her as a shield between himself and whoever it was on the other side of the door.

They both twitched in response to a lock clicking, Arcee's claws retracted fully, Nautilus shifted, still leaning heavily on her for support.

-"Officer, if I might suggest abstaining from touching our medical tools, they are in short supply as it is and this shelf is not what it used to be after one of the patients saw it fit to ram into it."

Ratchet's voice sounded from somewhere close and the temperature in the small hiding chamber rose several degrees. The scratching noise resumed, this time trailing down the seam of the hidden door. For a brief moment Arcee felt Nautilus's digits perched precariously on her shoulders twitch slightly. They waited in tense silence for something, anything. The officer in question voiced his assent and the footsteps retreated.

The search of the clinic uncovered nothing of importance, even Laserbeak, who had been confined to Knock Out's quarters once more, was suspiciously missing. The red grounder had attributed the presence of a cage inside his quarters to an escaped pet.

The search was officially over for now. Before leaving Prowl turned to speak to Ratchet once more.

-"Thank you for accommodating us, I regret to say that this might not be the last investigation party sent your way, I would suggest you stay within confines of this district."

Ratchet wished he could show his gratitude for an upfront warning, Prowl had overlooked the hidden chamber despite clearly having seen the seam and hence his debt to the medic was repaid but that oversight probably would not happen again. The senior medic inclined his helm and bid the officer good evening, there was no point in showcasing their association.

They waited for half an hour after the search party had left until it was deemed safe to retrieve Nautilus and Arcee.

When Knock Out finally opened the door he was blasted with a wall of heat emanating from the small confined chamber.

-"Whew, I see the air had been thick on both sides of this door. How are you two?"

Arcee was about to snap at Knock Out for locking her in tight quarters with what could most certainly be called a professional killer with no reliable sanity record but stopped herself before the words left her mouth. She chanced a glance over her shoulder and noticed Nautilus holding a distance between them and using the doorframe for support. His injured shoulder strut looked dislocated too.

-"We need coolant first and I will need you to help me pop his shoulder joint back in place."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annd thank you for reading, I hope you liked it!  
> Also, Sundwave is actually a mechanical Ctenophore


	11. Roads Seldom Traveled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, oh, you know what this story is missing?
> 
> More horrible things happening, clearly!
> 
> But not in this chapter, this chapter is all about good-natured bickering and disassembling the bad guys, so all is well this side of Fan Fiction!
> 
> For now
> 
> And I already apologize in advance to those who dislike slobber, drool or saliva, there will be some.

Megatron reset his optics, the room was blurry, the light was dim.

\- " Soundwave?"

Nothing, not even the annoying, meaningless taps answered him, still, he had a feeling someone was in the room with him.

-" Glad to see you awake, Megatron, how are you feeling?"

The gladiator blinked, bleariness clearing, blue and red plating in his line of sight. Oh, a glass of coolant.

-"I wanted to discuss the matters of your involvement in our projects if that is alright with you."

-"Orion, no! Primus, the mech is just recovering from surgery, you can bore him to death with history once he is out of our ward!"

The red grounder who Megatron remembered haggling for his life, strutted into the room. Understandably the gladiator growled, glaring at the mech angrily.

Sensing trouble Knock Out halted his easy stroll, backpedaled and put his hands up defensively -"Whoa there, sunshine. Keep it under wraps."

That did not help. The gladiator was already getting up, welds and bandages notwithstanding and Knock Out did not have the spark to dissuade him. At least not a spark to spare once the gladiator had gotten a hold of him and ripped out his current one.

Luckily to Knock Out, Megatron was still running low on coolant, he staggered, clasping his helm and sat back on his berth. The red medic did not take his chances though and took up a post behind Orion to inspect the patient from safe distance.

-"Well, at least the welds are holding."

Megatron took the glass of coolant Orion offered, muttering thanks, before resuming his hostilities but now from berth.

-"Some medic you are."

-"Wu-what?" Knock Out was justifiably appalled, he was a Fine surgeon. -"What´s wrong with you? I saved your life you buckethead!"

-"You bargained for it while I was leaking steam on the arena floor." Megatron hissed at him but made no move to reach out for the medic who remained glued to Orion´s wider shoulder strut.

-"Oh, so you were awake all that time?" Some venom crept into Knock Out´s voice despite his position. -"Perhaps then you maybe noticed how your lovely master was considering letting you leak out just there and then!"

-"You do pit repairs often enough without bargaining for a price Over a leaking chassis."

-"These were other circumstances."

-"I was guttering out!"

-"No you weren´t!"

-"You said so yourself."

Knock Out dragged a palm over his face, frowning at the white residue on his palm. That did Not improve his mood. -"It was a ploy to make your master comply with my rules, essentially I was helping You to help us for helping your little dark-plated fellow." Knock Out was now leaning angrily over Orion´s shoulder in a manner in which an angry avian would. The archivist put a steadying hand on the medic´s back to both prevent him from toppling over and partially alleviate the hostilities.

It took a moment for Megatron to realize Knock Out had been referring to Soundwave. Having taken a sweeping glance over the room he realized that the other gladiator was missing.

-"Where is he?"

Knock Out was not feeling charitable at all, crossing arms over his chest he regarded the gladiator haughtily. -"He is alive and safe, and his location is none of your business as of now." That had been a wrong thing to say as moments later Orion had to physically intervene to keep the two from going at each other.

-"Both of you, calm down of I will call Ratchet." Knock Out clamped his intake shut. The mech was soundly in recharge. After the surprize visit of the enforcers the night before they had not taken their chances with delaying any longer; the entire remainder of the night had been spent preparing Nautilus for transfer. Early that morning Orion had arrived with a key to the safehouse and non-sentient means of transport. To their surprise Laserbeak had peeled off her hiding spot behind the tapestry and settled on the gladiator´s chest, hissing viciously at anyone who attempted to budge her from her perch. They had left with the first lights of the dawn, the vehicle disguised as a simple hearse.

Once it all had been set and done, half the staff were asleep on their feet. Knock Out and Bumblebee, being the youngest ones of the lot, volunteered to take the day shift while Orion, being the only one capable of persuading Ratchet to stand down, had led the protesting older medic to his personal quarters to recharge.

Now the precarious rest of the most fearsome medic in the district hung in the air like a bright warning sign. Knock Out knew better, Megatron didn´t, but he knew well enough to follow the queues.

Knock Out was the one to avert his gaze first, especially after someone knocked on their back door - designated for mecha of lowest societal standing. Not a choice they made themselves but the only way of treating those less fortunate without scaring away other patients. A few early patients had come in, mostly pleasure mechs, needing fixes after a rougher work night. Knock Out treated them without prejudice or excessive comments, a weld here, a strut adjustment there, a piece of carbon to help them along.

Still having a couple of hours before he had to go to work Orion lingered in the ward, helping out with what he knew. His interest mostly lay with the gladiator but he dared not disturb the mech who had exhausted himself after his altercation with the snippy medic.

* * *

The hearse was pulled by two large insecticons and Arcee almost fell asleep, rocked by the sway of the vehicle. Uneasily she held the reins in her hand, trying not to pull on them by accident, the insecticons had turned docile and obedient once they caught a smell of her and she did not want to put them through unnecessary pain because of her own recklessness.

They were on a rarely-used overgrown path sheltered from sight on both sides by overgrown titanium bramble bushes.

-"Hold!" She commanded, and the insecticons stopped without a fuss. The subservient attitude she received from these usually fearsome and relentless creatures had always made her uneasy but if it meant she did not need to use the reins which were deeply embedded in their bodies to cause pain, who was she to complain.

She hopped off the box at the head of the carriage and checked the directions, one of the insecticons bristled and released a small warble. Were they being followed? While the path they were staying on did also lead to a smelter, remaining alert was still necessary, just in case and insecticon senses were sharp. Moments later the other insecticon bristled and warbled as well, Arcee narrowed her optics and unbridled the both creatures, pulling a break on the hearse to prevent it from rolling away.

Arcee petted the faces of the insecticons, receiving affectionate nibbles on the palms of her hands and making them memorize her scent so that they knew who was in control. As much as they enjoyed attention, one of them turned its head to the side, focusing on something in the undergrowth.

Arcee glanced in the same direction and then issued a command. -"Fetch."

Both creatures bounded off, one took flight while the other stayed on the ground, conducting a joint surveillance. The same moment she realized she had committed a tactical mistake by releasing both of the creatures in the same time. A noise of something or someone tearing through the undergrowth on the opposite side caught her attention. A large, steaming Thing erupted from the other side of the road and proceeded to ram into the hearse, tearing at its´side.

Something shot out from the carriage and latched on the face of the monstrosity, pecking relentlessly at the disfigured, smoldering optics. The thing did not seem to notice that and proceeded to tear into the vehicle. It took moments for Arcee to realize that the brave little thing had been Nautilus´s avian. Blades shining, she charged at the assailant from behind and aimed for the exposed hydraulic ducts of its lower legs. The slash was successful but the thing had the mind to turn in direction from where the assault came only to realize it no longer had the support of its legs and proceeded falling backwards on top of Arcee.

She had mere moments to gather enough strength and jump out of the way when something latched on her leg and dragged her over ground Between the creature's legs and onto its other side - to safety. Only then did she notice the now-familiar pulse resonate through her body. Nautilus had joined the fight and unwound his long cable from her leg, calling the little flyer back just in time before the two returning insecticons rammed into the thing and proceeded to shred it to bits.

Arcee was shaking pebbles and bits of detritus out of her armor while Laserbeak circled the duo and dropped a trophy into Soundwave´s palm - an optic, with a line still attached, by the feels of it, dripping still-warm fuel. He offered it to Arcee for inspection since he could not do it himself at the moment, and it seemed Laserbeak took offence for him re-gifting her gifts and settled on the crest of what remained of the hearse, fluffing out her quills in an act of defiance, completely unfazed by the gory scene before her.

The insecticons were done soon enough and no recognizable part of the creature was left. Arcee lamented the fact that she would have nothing left to show Ratchet for her trouble, he would have been most intrigued. It could not be helped, however, even she did not dare stop an insecticon once they had their blood-lust going. One of them had had the presence of mind to keep an internal intact and offer it as a gift to the tiny nurse.

If would have been rude not to accept it and she dared not jeopardize their alliance so she accepted a sloppy, dripping fuel burner from the insecticon´s jaws. Clearly, this called for a much-deserved patting and praise session which left giggling Arcee effectively sandwiched between two affectionate insecticons.

In response to this Soundwave inclined his helm and tapped on what remained of hearse something along the lines of _-"Need help?"_

Arcee just shook her helm, then remembered the gladiator could not properly see her and replied. -"It´s ok, they just want to be praised for good work."

Left much more dirty and slobbery than she had been after being dragged over the ground, Arcee finally tapped their carapaces in sign that she had had enough or rather, that she was at the end of her tether. The morning was slowly progressing and they needed to pick up the remains, hide what evidence they could not take with them and finally get Nautilus to the safe house. This road was not exactly abandoned and Nautilus had pulled some of his welds a bit too much to her liking. But that would have to wait until she had deemed herself clean enough to even touch the patient, let alone, dress his injuries.

Luckily the smelter was not far and the mech who ran it just happened to be a close associate of Ratchet´s.

Wheeljack´s optic ridges shot up so high they threatened leaving his faceplate completely. Filthy and sticky-looking Arcee pulled into his yard on a battered hearse with one insecticon merrily bumbling about without any restraints and what looked like a collection of bandaged scaffolding walking beside the creature and holding on one of its spikes for support. Not to mention a thin trail of purple liquid leaking from the abused carriage…which was promptly covered up by a little flying mechanism with a twig in its feelers that followed the entire entourage. Officially Wheeljack had seen everything today, he could die happy, preferably before he had to deal with all that mess.

He quickly and silently indicated that she should park Behind his workshop and stay out of sight, in fact, All of them should. Judging by the presence of another, much more ornate hearse in the driveway there probably was a band of mecha actually sending off one of their loved ones and barging in on them would have been impolite, not to say that the entire sight would have sent a some of the older mechs into spark arrest.

Arcee did not waste time, they pulled up next to a thick copse of metalloplants. Then took both very happy and content insecticons by their feelers and pulled them into the pen, giving each a handful of glowing blue fuel pellets to keep them quiet. The pellets would melt and stick to the insides of their mouths, causing them to smack and lick at their muzzles.

After that she ducked into the workshop to fetch a couple of buckets to put them under the places where the dismembered body leaked fuel from holes the carriage now had. In the end they had opted to collecting all the remains of the creature and putting them into the carriage since there was no other way of cleaning up the site. That had left Nautilus walking with some support but he had not complained. Currently he was preoccupied with lavishing attention and affection onto his avian companion for all her help and to soothe the little spike of jealousy she had displayed.

-"Ok, we are set with this, I, uh, could you follow me? I am afraid I can't really touch you for fear of contamination."

The workshop also doubled as a mortuary and a studio where dead bodies were dressed for being sent off to the smelter. Two grey bodies of different age and frametype lay on slabs, one of them had traditional smelting jewelry already attached. A transparent veil curled in folds around their face, held in place by ornamental clips, a smooth polished jewel over the spark chamber and a wreath of metalloplants over the place here transformation cog lay.

Curiously, Laserbeak alit on one of the bodies and started tampering with one of the ceremonial clips. Arcee frowned and shooed the disrespectful avian away.

-"Be more respectful of the dead." Arcee hissed and then turned to Nautilus.

-"I hold you accountable for her behavior. I will go to wash and decontaminate now, don´t wander off, don´t attack anyone and don´t get discovered, don´t do that weird tremory thing you do."

The gladiator emitted something that sounded like a click and the bird retreated, bumping her head against the palm of his hand in attempt to get petted. Arcee concluded that everyone and everything had been set to rights so she could actually tend to herself.

Wheeljack´s engineering prowess clearly had been put to good use because his washracks were amazing. Hot cleanser blasted off grime and Arcee hissed in pleasure as it melted off the difficult to clean insecticon saliva. She wished she could stay longer but she had a sinking feeling that the longer she stayed, the more likely her wards (all of them, insecticons included) were getting up to no good.

Washing done, it was time for decontamination, it stung, with vengeance the disinfectant made her aware of all the scrapes and bruises she had accumulated that day. With her plating still stinging and slightly itchy from the treatment, she emerged from the washracks only to note that Nautilus was now sitting on one of the crates containing ceremonial veils and the avian had obtained one of the shiny funeral clips and had somehow managed fastening it on one of her wings. Nautilus did not give any indications of having noticed it, a quick glance at the decorated corpse indicated that the clip had not been snatched from it either.

-"Urgh." Arcee rubbed her helm and groaned, she wished dearly she could return to the nigh-meditative calm of the washracks.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing MORE characters?! What in the world am I thinking?!
> 
> Insecticons are the puppies of the transformer world.  
> Knock Out is Orion's shoulder parrot.  
> Laserbeak is actually a winged niffler.  
> Did I mention that they were using a hearse because I think I have not mentioned that enough :Þ


	12. Thin Veils

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so, triggery content of today is funerals. I apologize in advance to those who might feel offended. I lost a loved one a couple of months ago and I guess this is, in a sense, me moving on. Also some dark humor ahead so, yeah… Be aware?

-”’Jack, are you aware of any strange creatures roaming this area? Before you ask, that is why we are late” Arcee asked, having finished dressing Soundwave’s welds.

 

Wheeljack now busied himself in the mortuary area of his workshop, preparing the other frame for the passage through the smelter. Fortunately the attendants of the previous funeral rites had not noticed the arrival of his guests. However there were two more smeltings scheduled that day and he could not spare a moment for a formal conversation.

 

\- “Not the kind you have stuffed into that cart behind my workshop. Never seen fuel run purple before.”

 

Arcee hummed in assent from around her cup, to Laserbeak’s curious scrutiny.

 

The way how casual the two were about the entire incident intrigued Soundwave, the running commentary Laserbeak provided in the background with regards to smaller details which he had no ability of noting also proved valuable. Such details like the strange blue liquid the nurse ingested, the weapons a she had on her that she had no need or even right to possess. Not to mention her entire interaction with the insecticons down to the nonchalance of the two mecha who by all means should have been frightened out of their minds...it was bizarre, it was intriguing. These were no ordinary mecha, there were secrets underlying their every sentence, secrets he craved to find out.

 

-”How about you buddy, doing fine?” Wheeljack called out to their silent companion. Being pulled out from his thoughts Soundwave looked up. He had been thumbing the bit of carbon offered to him between his slender fingers, the dusty residue clung to the tips.

 

-”Nautilus communicates in an unusual manner.” Arcee had come to accept that the gladiator often needed his own space and a lot of it, too. He did tap a quick response of

_Yes, good._

 

-”Oh!” Wheeljack’s optics brightened, faceplates pulling into a pleasantly surprised grin. -”Glad to hear that.”

 

Soundwave turned to face the engineer, displaying more outward interest this time and experimentally tapped a string of words which could not be easily predicted from the context to test the mech.

 

-”Primus, never expected to hear morse used so frivolously!”

 

The gladiator took it as a personal challenge of sorts and started tapping so quickly that it was a wonder no sparks were flying from under that finger tip.

 

-”Whoa, ease up! I am a bit rusty.” Wheeljack laughed but listened intently regardless. -”Your bird can keep the trinket, though it is considered bad luck, I get it but you will have to ask her yourself and Of course I do!”

 

Arcee looked between the two, light scowl on her face.

 

-”Do you have a manual for this?”

 

-“Yeah, somewhere in the drawers, it is an old thing, really, used for communicating with submerging types like our friend here. That is when they were still abundant.”

 

-”You mean none of the submerging types can vocalize?”

 

Wheeljack snorted at this. -”’Course they can, just not on the same frequency as us. We can’t hear them talk because their voices are out of our perception range but they do talk between themselves, and with their companions who have the hearing range of that frequency. Chances are these two.” He gestured to Soundwave and Laserbeak. -”Are probably gossiping right in front of us.”

 

To this Laserbeak produced a disdained squawk, as if she was outraged about being found out, the gladiator just had his helm turned in their direction and appeared to be listening intently.

 

Arcee quickly shut her mouth when she realized she had been gaping. She had assumed that a blind patient and a _Bird_ out of all things would have been a relatively safe audience but just _How Much_ did those two witness and convey to each other?

 

-”I will bear that in mind.” Arcee finally spoke, still eyeing both the gladiator and the bird suspiciously.

 

-”Aw, don’t be like that ‘Cee, he’s a bit freaked about the run-in you had today, is all.”

 

 _Lies._ Soundwave tapped.

 

-”He is curious about what you saw.” Wheeljack continued nonplussed; a teasing glint in his optic.

 

 _Desist!_ This time Soundwave accompanied it with slight bristling of what remained of his armor.

 

Taking this display as confirmation of Wheeljack’s words rather than indignation, Arcee continued -“Yes, that was unusual and coordinated, too. There were at least two actors. One served as a distraction to lure away the insecticons and the other - to attack us.” Arcee’s optics widened at the realisation only to slump into a deep frown. “Scrap, I think the other one got away.”

 

-”Nothing we can do about that now.” Wheeljack shrugged, adding the finishing touches to the frame he had been working on. -”Now if you do not mind, I have to measure you.” He said, turning to face Soundwave now.

 

Laserbeak flitted to the rafters, positioning herself above the two mechs, clearly surveying the area. -”How do you feel about costume parties?”

 

_Never attended one_

 

-”Well, now is your chance, though I am afraid I only have costumes of dead people and the attendants are rather stiff but I hope you don’t mind?”

 

Arcee cleared her throat behind Wheeljack, aware that his particular branch of humor took a bit of getting used to. -”What Wheeljack means is, every frame that arrives here to be smelted is taken a picture of, measured and registered in the book of the Smelter. We need to provide evidence that you were indeed smelted, I am afraid we will have to stage your funeral, in a sense.”

 

-”Shall we begin?”

 

Nautilus’s helm swerved to look in their direction and he tapped.

 

After a moment’s pause wheeljack muttered -”Bummer.” At an insistent _Look_ from Arcee Wheeljack apologized -” He said that unclaimed gladiators get pulled apart for parts, never smelted.”

 

Arcee puffed a vent. -”We are operating under auspices that you were an unclaimed body so you being a gladiator is a moot point.”

 

Nautilus did not utter another tap.

 

-”Looks like everybody is happy.” Wheeljack lifted a container of grey paint and set to work.

 

* * *

 

Prowl was on his way to his superior’s office to submit the report of the night inspection. Most of his coworkers had already left for recharge or carbon and he sorely wished to return home and just be with his mate.

 

He had long since weighed the pros and cons of having Ratchet provide medical care in their district. He had consciously edited out some more suspicious parts; Jazz was alive thanks to the medic and Prowl was not going to forget that any time soon. If that made him a bad enforcer, so be it but in his mind a mech who teetered on boundaries of the legality for saving lives instead of taking them had precedence over unreasonable legislation. Clearly, his mindset was not shred by many.

 

Voices behind the closed door made him pause before knocking.

 

-”I’m sure he is more crafty than that. We should just flush them out, clearly your staff is not competent enough to perform a thorough search.” The voice was not familiar to Prowl, he furrowed his optic ridges, quieting his engine to a minimum.

 

-”Let me remind you that it IS a hospital. What you are implying is highly illegal and nobody else has been willing to provide medical care in the slums up to this point. I am not backing this up.”

 

-”I am not asking for your support, I merely want your oversight.”

 

Prowl’s optics widened, this was not a good time to be caught listening in outside his superior’s office but despite himself he lingered by the door. The entire idea was highly unnerving, he had to warn Ratchet. He was about to move away from the door when it opened.

 

-”Ah, officer, please enter, I believe you have a report to hand in?” Prowl schooled his doorwings into a neutral cant but he was not as successful with hiding his exhaust fumes wafting forth from his agitated frame.

 

The other occupant of the room - a bright red mech - brushed past Prowl without a word and the enforcer was left alone with his superior.

 

-”I take it you heard the interaction?”

 

-”Only parts of it, Sir, I did not mean to listen in.”

 

-”Mecha coming around, thinking they can use us as tools for petty revenge.” The commanding officer huffed in indignation. Prowl placed the report on the desk and moved to leave the office.

 

-”A moment of your time. I have looked into your application for a promotion and I believe there is an opening now.”

 

Prowl’s optics lit up, incandescent wires glowing nearly white.

 

-”The county to the South from the city needs a commanding officer and I believe you would be excellent for the job.”

In translation this meant his commanding officer wanted Prowl out of the district and the city itself.

 

-”I am flattered but I believe my skills could be better applied in city where there is a higher rate of crime.”

 

-”Nonsense, an enforcer of your caliber should not patrol the streets - your administrative work is brilliant and Primus knows that office needs some shaping up." His superior stated with a lofty gesture. -"Furthermore - you are not on your own anymore, this district is no place for a family.”

 

-”Can I consider your offer before giving my final answer?”

 

-”I’m afraid your position already has been adjusted.”

 

That was very abrupt -”How soon do I start?”

 

-”Tomorrow.”

Prowl worked his jaw but had no other answer to give than -"Thank you. Sir." He was not foolish enough to overlook the casual mention of his family. It was a thinly-veiled warning - intervene and they will suffer.

* * *

 

-”Well, I must say you are one handsome deadmech.” Wheeljack smirked after looking at the picture. The smell of powder still clung in the air and Laserbeak was still disgruntled because she got startled by the bright flash.

 

-”Does he look dead enough?” Arcee peeked over his shoulder strut.

 

-”I tried imitating some gashes on his chest over here.” He pointed at the black and white picture along the line where there were welds now. “And you did a good job at masking his biolights, would be strange to have them glowing on a corpse.”

 

Arcee tapped her chin - “Is it not too much? I mean all the ornaments? He was supposed to be an unclaimed body.”

 

-”Yeah, but, hum.” Now Wheeljack thought a bit more. -” You are right, but it is such a lovely take.”

 

-”What do you think?” Arcee plucked the picture from Wheeljack’s fingers and showed it to Laserbeak.

 

Soundwave was not comfortable. The paint made his plating itch and all the trinkets and burial rite props just annoyed him and tampered with his senses.

 

_Does the paint come off?_

 

Laserbeak’s squawk alerted them to a group of mechs coming into the yard. Right, Wheeljack quickly disengaged from his two guests and went to meet the mourning party.

 

-”Down!” Arcee whispered urgently and pushed Soundwave towards one of the mortuary slabs. Surprised, he released a pulse and then did not resist anymore. Having a dead-grey-looking mech wander the grounds would draw the wrong kind of attention. She took a tarp and pulled it over him with some help from Laserbeak who had caught the drift half way through the commotion.

 

There, the gladiator covered, the bird… Arcee looked around to discover that the little avian had made itself scarce again (what a sneak!). She sighed and started looking for a paint stripper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The inspiration for Soundwave’s voice came from an article about a whale who vocalized on an unusual frequency. Hence it was assumed that it's calls never got answered because other whales could not hear it. Which the article hypothesized, resulted in a very sad whale.**Later they discovered that some whales DO vocalize on that frequency but that is a matter of history.

**Author's Note:**

> There may be dragons.


End file.
